


Heartland - A Youtube AU

by septembergem



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF, gaming youtube
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Death, Fighting, Love, Multi, Teams, War, youtubers that don't youtube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6443707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septembergem/pseuds/septembergem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years into the distant future, war has ravaged the earth and left nothing but hatred and fighting. You either pick and side and defend it, or you die trying to end the massacre. </p>
<p>There is a town, hidden from civilization, collecting recruits. They are going to put an end to the war, stop it once and for all and give the earth back to its people. </p>
<p>However, this town doesn't take kindly to those that just happen to wander in without a purpose. Which is exactly what Mark Fischbach just did. </p>
<p>Welcome to Heartland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello and welcome to this fun times fic
> 
> I'm writing it simultaneously on Deviantart (stargazer1300), and you will usually find faster updates there if you so prefer. I do not currently have a beta, or anyone to really read over my work, so please be gentle with spelling and grammar errors!
> 
> I do sincerely hope you enjoy this alternate reality
> 
> *wiggles away*

Two wheels and a broken handle drag across the dirt. It’s so dry that the dust billowing from his cart makes his lungs seize. He coughs, finding the bandana around his neck and tying it up. When he rakes a hand through his hair, he can feel the grit.   
  
His eyes are only set on one thing - the harsh outline of a house, or perhaps a shop. And as his feet pull him closer and closer, with each step shooting a stab of pain to his abdomen, he recognizes that there are multiple, scraggly outlines. A town.   
  
The air smells of gunpowder and everything around him is dead. The breeze only feels heavy.   
  
His boots turn the dirt to gravel, and the sound only makes him hesitant. He slows as he walks under an archway that looks centuries old. It is split down the right side and hanging sadly, threatening to hit anyone tall enough. He pulls his bandana down.   
  
“Hello?”  
  
His voice comes out in a dry whisper. What he would kill for something to drink - he clears his throat and tries again, this time louder and clearer.   
  
“Hello -”  
  
In one moment, his hands have let go of his cart and are held behind his back. From that motion, his shoulders pull threateningly at his sockets. He grimaces, but doesn’t have the time to call out. Another hand wraps around his mouth. He doesn’t realize, but the hand that had been holding his wrists has been replaced by a rope cord. A single, cold blade comes to rest on his neck. He tries not to swallow.   
  
As he inhales slowly, the smell of leather fills his nose. His eyes cross trying to look down. The hand is covered in a worn, maroon, leather glove. He can’t see the knife, but can see the arm curving around behind him. The person is wearing black bands, wrapped tightly around and around. He can’t see an inch of their skin.   
  
Another force, this one at his shoulder, only makes his heart go into a frenzy. _What was happening? Is he being robbed? Who is this person, and what is this town?_  
  
A voice, low and muffled surely by cloth as well as an accent spoke into his ear. He can feel their jaw moving against his collar.   
  
“Welcome to Heartland.” the knife’s blade curves gently around his neck. “We don’t take kindly to strangers.”  
  
He tries to speak, but his voice is rough and lost in the glove. The movement of his jaw alerts his captor of his attempted action. There’s a low laugh before a boot kicks his legs. His knees buckle, and he hits the earth. Gravel now digs into his knees, but the hand that had been around his mouth was now released. He did everything in his power not to fall over, his hands secured behind him. The absence of the metal on his neck allows him to cough and clear his throat.   
  
“Please, I was just going to pass -”  
  
Boots shifted the gravel. He looks up to meet the eyes of his captor.   
  
A vest made of the same leather as his gloves is corded tightly around him. The black bands around his arms disappear beneath the vest, then reappear on the other arm like some kind of undershirt. His pants are made of a material he’s not familiar with, but they are dusty and have rips and tears. Large combat boots are laced around his ankles. The knife in his right hand is oddly shaped and has a small panel in the side of it. A little blue light glints at him.   
  
The man has another piece of cloth, black, similar to what was on his arms, tied around his mouth. In fact, the only skin he can see is the skin around his eyes. One eye looks almost amused, bright blue iris staring him down. The other eyes is made of a gleaming green metal with a black pupil. Lights blink and buzz beneath the surface. It feels like his very core is being examined.   
  
A shock of green hair is the last thing he stares at. Then the muffled, accented voice catches him again.   
  
“What’s your name?” it asks. He swallows again.   
  
“Mark.”  
  
“Where did you come from, Mark?”  
  
He hesitates. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is waking up in this desert with this cart. I’m a merchant, please, if you’ll let me through,”  
  
“No, no, I can’t do that. What I can do is allow you to live. For now.” Mark could almost see the sinister smile beneath the band around his mouth. “Get up.”  
  
Mark stands, with difficulty. The cord is cut from his hands, but his wrists are grabbed again by those leather gloves. And he’s pulled through the town.   
  
Except now… now there is life.   
  
Eyes stare at him through broken windows, fogged windows, barred windows. There is movement, a boot in gravel. Perhaps it is his eyes playing a trick on him, but there is a whip of hair, purple, that swirls around a corner.Metal on metal.   
  
_Where was he?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jack is a sassy bean

The sheer size of the town itself amazed Mark. From an outside perspective, it looked like just a few building clustered together. How that morphed into a full-fledged town stretching out and to the sides, Mark could never guess.   
  
And then they went down.   
  
After walking through what looked like a town square sort of area with more people out in the open, the man dragging him along stopped abruptly. He stared at Mark with a withering glare.   
  
“One move. _One move,_ and I’ll shoot you through the back of the head.”  
  
Mark couldn’t see a gun on him, but then again, he watched as he virtually pulled a key ring out of nowhere. Mark decided not to try his luck - besides, the two or three people actually out in the open didn’t appear unarmed either. In his peripheral, he could see a woman whisk by with the collar of her long cape concealing the bottom half of her face. Her eyes, piercing, stared at him until she was out of sight. Her hair billowed down her back, transforming from brown to blonde as it fluttered out of sight. Heeled boots clicked on stone.   
  
Mark focused his attention back on his guide. He was standing back up, key ring twirling around a finger. Mark saw that a box had been shoved out of the way, and a tiny square with a keyhole stared up at him. The square looked barely big enough for a person to squeeze through - to his horror, the man grabbed the side and pulled up the door. He swept his hand down.   
  
“After you. Visitors first.”  
  
Mark looked down at the darkness. Then he looked at the one green eye.   
  
Blindly, he jumped down through the hole.   
  
Mark’s feet hit dirt, just like the usual method of road that had been up above him. He put a hand to his abdomen again, pain still throbbing with every sharp movement. As his eyes adjusted, he looked around in awe.   
  
Tunnels sprawled to either side of him that twisted in all directions, turning and looping out of sight. On the walls, lamps lighted the way about every ten feet. To his surprise, another square of light opened up about twenty yards away and a person dropped down into the tunnels. They made their merry way in whatever direction it was that they were going. Mark looked at his captor, who had dropped down beside him.   
  
The man nodded. “Tunnel system. Comes quite in handy when you don’t want to be found.” Then he motioned for Mark to start walking. When he still just stared at the expanse of space around him, the man prodded his back with the butt of his knife.   
  
“Come on, we do _not_ have all day.” he said, voice gruff. So Mark started walking.   
  
They turned, turned again, following some kind of trail. It seemed like about two minutes when the man grabbed Mark’s arm, yanking him backwards. Just as he did, a square of light opened up and a woman plopped down right in front of them. She had some form of a smock on over seemingly regular clothes. Her hair was a bright ginger color, tied back in a ponytail. Mark almost couldn’t meet her eyes. He felt like they pierced him through even more than the man’s did, and _he_ had one metal one.   
  
“New one?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. The square of light disappeared. His captor nodded, and Mark watched as he finally pulled the wrap away from his mouth. Brown scruff was all along his chin and upper lip. Suddenly, the mystery looked a bit more human.   
  
“Nothing exciting. Some sap without a backstory.”  
  
The woman pouted, looking at Mark. “That’s no fun. Have a nice time telling that to J, Jack.”  
  
The man, Jack, made a mock salute. “I sure will, Lex.”  
  
She walked away, wiping her hands on the smock.   
  
Mark was prodded to move again.   
  
In moments, they reached a large door. It seemed rather impressive, probably hiding someone important from the rest of this bizarre town. Jack rapped his hand against the door. When his knock was muffled and went seemingly unheard, he grumbled under his breath and sheathed his knife. Then he removed his glove, knocking again.   
  
Mark thought he heard a voice tell them to enter.   
  
The room was circular and well lit. Technology lined the walls and a huge, round desk was situated towards the back side. A person was sitting at that desk. Mark swallowed as Jack entered first, grasping his wrist again.   
  
“Yes, Sean?” the same voice said. Mark couldn’t distinguish if it was male or female sounding.   
  
“Somebody new.” he said simply. The form spun around quickly.   
  
Mark truly couldn’t identify the gender of this implied boss-figure; and he was starting to think that was the idea. The person stared at Mark for a moment, then smiled.   
  
“Thank you, Sean. That will be all.”  
  
Sean - or, Jack, or whatever his name was, hesitated for a moment.  
  
The person stared at them, folding their hands over the top of the desk. “No,  you cannot take Minx’s position.” they said simply.  
  
The man made a sour face and slouched. “Oh, come on, just for, like, _one day?_ ” he whined. Mark made a surprised face at the sudden change of character. Without the gloves and the ‘mask’, the man seemed totally different.  
  
“No. Get back on post.”  
  
He sulked from the room. The person turned back to Mark.  
  
“So. Mark. Tell me about yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah there chapter two how are you


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *waves hands* character introductions

Soon, Mark was seated across this person. He was offered a glass of water, and though his distrust was great, his thirst bothered him more.   
  
As he gulped down the precious water, he could feel the person’s eyes on him. Did everyone in this god-forsaken town enjoy staring right through him? The glass thumped satisfyingly onto the wood, and he crossed his arms over his chest.   
  
“What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice returned to him. They mimicked him, crossing their arms over their chest as well.   
  
“Where are you from? Where is your family, what do you do, just the basics. I’m merely curious.” they said. Their voice was irritatingly flat and indistinguishable. Mark stared them down.   
  
“I don’t know where I’m from. My family is dead. I’m a merchant. How’s that?” he answered curtly. He had no idea why his confidence was returning to him now, but with just the two of them in the room, he felt far less intimidated. The added bonus of no visible weapons also put him at ease, but that relaxation was just at the surface. If this figure was some kind of ‘boss’ type, he knew that there had to be at _least_ five weapons concealed in this dirt room.   
  
The longer he let himself think and the longer he took notice to the fact that he was underground, it became harder to breath. Still, he stared down the person across from him.   
  
“How do you not know where you are from? It seems like a simple enough question to answer, and I would like you to answer it for me. Please.” they smiled sweetly. Mark shrugged.   
  
“I told you, I don’t know where I’m from. I remember waking up with my face pressed to the ground and a terrible lack of water. I had my broken cart and my broken memories of selling things and mourning my family.”   
  
They gave him a curious look. The silence unsettled him less than the voice, however.   
  
“Tell me, Mark, do you have any experience with weapons?” they asked. Mark blanched.   
  
“Weapons?”  
  
“Combat, fighting, strategies, _weapons._ Do try to keep up.” they said, annoyance tinging their words. Mark blinked.   
  
“No. Why would I ever need to have that kind of experience?” he said, squinting suspiciously.   
  
“Well,” they threw their hands up. “There is a _war_ going on currently. I don’t know if you noticed.” their sarcasm made Mark scowl.   
  
“Of course I know. How do you think I lost my family?” his own words stabbed at his heart a bit. One after another, they all went to serve. And one after another, they were all lost to him. The pain was dull and numb. His grieving had ended moons ago.   
  
They nodded, almost pleased with the answer. “So you’re allianced to a side, then. Who did your family fight for?” they queried.   
  
Mark scoffed. “Me? Pick a side? Please. This war is the most ridiculous thing to happen to this world in millenias. My family was stubborn and blind for thinking that beating one over the other would solve anything.”  
  
Silence.   
  
“Mark, do you know what this town is?”  
  
“I heard something about ‘Heartland’. You people don’t seem very friendly…” _And it seems like you’re hiding something._  
  
They laughed. “Of course we aren’t friendly. This town is one of the only stations on this planet that is making a solid effort to stop this war.”  
  
Mark chuckled. “You won’t get far. People have tried, thrown pathetic protests, held their signs declaring peace. They were all shot where they stood. What makes you think you can do any better with your tiny little town?” his venom and hatred for everything to do with the war had made him angry. He wasn’t afraid of this town.   
  
They crossed their hands over the desk and leaned towards Mark. “I _know_ that we can do better. Because we have an army being built. We have loyalty and family and drive and we aren’t going for the favor of one side or the other. We are a neutral town. We’re going to stop this fucking war at its roots.”  
  
Mark wasn’t convinced. “I hope you succeed. But if you expect me to help-” he started to get up.  
  
The door clicked behind him. Locked. They laughed.   
  
“Oh no. You know that we’re here. You’ve found us out, boy. There’s no way we can let you go now. Don’t forget, we have you as our prisoner. Almost everyone starts out as a prisoner until they pledge their loyalty. We need recruits. So agree to join our cause…” they smirked. “Or be executed. A simple choice.”  
  
Mark was quiet.   
  
They continued. “If you’re so adamant about being executed, really, Minx is quite a nice girl. Makes the executions a little more fun, yeah?”  
  
Mark heard the name resonate in his head - that man, his captor, had wanted ‘Minx’s’ job. Whoever this Minx was… he didn’t exactly care to meet her.   
  
“What’s your answer, Mark?”  
  
Mark weighed his options - his chance of escape was absolutely none. If he could make it out of the office alive, there was no way he could find his way through the tunnels. And the town was incredibly populated, full of crazies willing to kill anyone that wasn’t ‘loyal.’ He would be killed as soon as he moved. And if he willingly succumbed to execution… well, that wouldn’t exactly be smart, either.   
  
He took a deep breath.   
  
“Fine. Fine, I’ll join your little cult.”  
  
They laughed. “Honestly, everything aside, I hope you enjoy it here. Once you get past the whole ‘everyone is a trained assassin’ thing, the people here are very kind.”  
  
Mark smirked. “Oh yeah. Your friend that brought me here seemed like a real charmer.”  
  
“Oh, Sean? He’s a sweetheart. He just has an affinity for theatrics. And knives. He also has an affinity for those.” they said. Mark shrugged.   
  
“I assume I’ll also meet this Minx girl at some point?”  
  
“You’ll meet everyone, one way or another. They’re all your allies, your teammates. If we are going to put an end to this war, we need cooperation and trust.”  
  
Mark nodded. “Right, yeah. Sure. Whatever. Can I go now?”  
  
“Yes, you can go. I’ll find someone to help you get settled. You’ll need lodging, maps for the tunnels, and weapons, as well. For now, just go out this door and follow the torches with purple bands around them until you come to another room. That should be the tech hub - find Dan. Actually, no, find Phil. He’s a bit more welcoming - he’ll help you from there.”  
  
Mark shrugged and nodded. “Thanks, I guess. What was your name?”  
  
“Call me J. Goodbye, Mark. I’ll be seeing you again soon.”  
  
Mark nodded and opened the door, now unlocked. To his left, torches with blue bands wrapped around in that direction. So he turned left, seeing a purple band ahead.   
  
He thought as he walked. Of course - only he would be able to get himself into a situation like this. Trapped in some weird cult wanting to put an end to the war. He almost laughed at the sheer comedy of it all. He thought about Sean and the mysterious Minx characters - he thought about the girl from earlier… Lex? And he thought about this J character. He didn’t know exactly how much he trusted them.  
  
Then he realized something - he had never told J his name. Not once did he ever say it, nor did Sean say it. How did J know his name was Mark? A chill went down his spine as he walked through a cross roads.   
  
It seemed like he had been walking for too long when he glanced at a torch to his side - a green band wrapped around it. He froze - how had he gone off the path? He hadn’t passed it - surely not. Mark spun around, looking for anything purple. He started to wander back the way he had come; was this even the way he had come? Oh, God, he was in for it now…  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Mark kept walking.   
  
“Hey, you!”  
  
Mark barely turned his head. He didn’t want help - he could find it, he was sure of it.   
  
There was a hand on his shoulder, and a person started walking next to him. “Jeez, you weren’t planning on slowing down, were you?” they asked. Mark looked up at the guy - he had an impressive sweep of brown hair coming out from under a gray beanie. His clothes were - they were different from what he had seen so far. They seemed so… normal. Which was so different now. Mark raised an eyebrow at the kind grin and shining grey-green eyes.   
  
“You’re new, right?” he asked, making an effort for them to stop. Mark obliged, nodding. The guy smiled again, holding out his hand for him to shake it. Mark took notice of the mystery sheath attached to his right leg, but grasped his hand. “My name’s Connor. Yours?”  
  
“Mark.” he said, and thought for a moment. Maybe it wouldn’t kill him to just ask…  
  
“Do you happen to know where the tech hub is?”  
  
Connor nodded. “Oh, yeah, of course! You must be looking for Phil. I’ll take you there.”  
  
Despite everything, Mark was actually glad he had the company.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MORE characters dang bet you weren't ready for this

Connor made conversation with him as they walked, and even though Mark was quiet, he was listening. He heard about when Connor had come here, what exactly he did around here, that kind of thing. When asked about what his role would be, however, Mark paused.   
  
“Oh - I'm not sure. I suppose it hasn't exactly been decided yet.” He shrugged, still bitter in general of the town. However, after meeting a normal human being wearing...fairly normal clothes, he couldn't hate on the inhabitants as much as before. Especially since Connor had successfully turned him down the hallway he had missed.   
  
A large carve out of the tunnels created an open, some like room. Some could call it a cave, but the word ‘cave’ didn't really encompass everything _about_ the room.   
  
As they slowed and finally stopped in front of the “Tech Hub,” Mark took it all it.   
  
Panels, of every size and made of every material he had ever seen was anchored to the curving walls. Lights were embedded everywhere, cords winding their way around anything they could get their cables on. There were tables, two desks, and chairs all strewn about. Workbenches, tools hung on hooks, everything was so surreal that Mark had to actually blink to focus on the two people sitting at the desks.   
  
Each desk was pressed against the opposite wall, turned away from each other. One man was hunched over some kind of screen, panel tipped open. He had one magnifying lenses around one eye. From what he could see, his hair was brown (though it looked silvery in the weird lighting). He had a long-sleeve black shirt on, one side of it zipping up. The zipper, white, caught a light and glinted at him. His legs disappeared underneath the desk.   
  
This man put his hand out. “Hey, ‘driver?” He said. His accent was thick and English; specifically, Mark didn't know. It took him by surprise a bit after speaking to the American Connor. Not that nationality even mattered, anymore. But old customs die hard.   
  
The other man, who had been writing at the opposite desk, wheeled backwards and placed a screwdriver into the other’s hand. He happened to look up and met Mark’s gaze. His own stoic face broke into a smile.   
  
“Oh! Sorry, we didn't see you there. My name’s Phil.” He stood from the desk chair.   
  
Around his neck was a pair of glasses. He wore a gray undershirt and a bright, blue… what could only be described as a blazer over that. It was made of some kind of tweed material and went a few inches past his waist. He had a coil of wire wrapped around his left arm; whether it was for style of for his work, Mark didn't know. He had faded gray jeans on with stains and dust on the knees. Two belts, one white and one green, were buckled around his lower waist. He made his way to the front of the cave, wiped his hand on his shirt, and held on out to be shaken.   
  
Mark took it, and despite never having met the man, he smiled. “Mark.”  
  
Phil turned his head to look at the other man. “And… that's Dan.”  
  
Dan, still looking at the little screen, simply waved a hand in their general direction.   
  
“So, what will we be fixing you up with, Mark?” Phil asked, hands on his hips. Mark opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. He was at a loss for words. Connor chuckled.   
  
“He’s new, as of today. I imagine a screen is a good start, as well as a request to armory.” Connor turned to him. “Got any skills? Hobbies? You seem like more of a close range guy to me.”   
  
He watched as Connor pulled a long, complicated gun from the sheath on his leg. “I prefer a different approach, personally. But whatever you feel comfortable with.”  
  
 _I'm not comfortable with any weapons - I've never held a gun in my life!_ he wanted to scream. But instead, he just shrugged. “I don't have a preference, really. Whatever’s on hand.”  
  
Phil tutted. “No no, everything is made custom for its user. Here -” he walked back towards his desk and reached under the table. The sound of something being unsheathed echoed through the cavern. From a holster under the desk, Phil pulled a long sword. The handle was black and cleaner than anything else in the room. Whatever metal the blade was made of, it reflected every light it touched ten fold. Mark’s eyebrows raised.   
  
“You don't keep it on you, like everyone else seems to.” Mark pointed out. Phil shrugged.   
  
“Listen, we’re stopping a war, not fighting in one. Everyone get’s their own custom, and most of the time, they're just for show.” He slid the sword back under his desk. “However, attacks on us aren't… uncommon. In fact, we get attacked more than you might think possible. That's why we’re so wary of folks like yourself that just wander in.” He thumbed at Dan. “I remember when Dan strolled in here, quiet as a mouse. Someone almost shot him straight through the head - was it Marzia?” Phil directed the question at Dan.   
  
Dan spun his chair around and put the glass around his neck. Mark noticed a thin necklace around his neck, but whatever was hanging from it disappeared beneath his shirt.   
  
“Yeah - ok, ok, let me guess who almost killed you - who was on rotations today?” He said to himself, mostly. Thinking. “Not her… was it Arin? No -”  
  
Mark smirked. “Sean, I think? I don't know, someone called him Jack.”   
  
Dan smacked a hand on his leg. “Damn. They're changing rotations so often now, it's hard to keep track of. Well, you're lucky that you got out without a scratch, my friend.” Dan flashed a smile at him. The smile surprised Mark. Dan didn't exactly seem like a personable guy, but Mark liked him. He crossed his arms over his chest.   
  
“So, what would you recommend for… say, a newbie?” He questioned nonchalantly. Phil pushed his blazer back and stuck his hands in his pockets almost backwards, fingers hanging awkwardly.   
  
“I found this to be pretty useful, actually.” Dan spoke up again. He grasped the necklace and pulled the charm from under his shirt. It was a bulky little rectangle, longer than it was wide. It was gold in color with one side painted white. Dan slid his finger across the side, and a white light blinked happily at Mark. Dan then smirked.   
  
“This is the part where you have to be careful of which way you hold it.”  
  
From the front of the necklace, something sprang forth. At first, it looks like a knife. But as the locks slid into place, Mark counted three separate barrels, only one of which was holding a knife. It was also gold with white accents. At its full size, the weapon fit comfortable in Dan’s hands. Mark now saw that the chain from which the ‘charm’ was hanging had tiny compartments on the sides where more length threaded. There was at least three feet of chain around either side of his neck, allowing him the freedom to move the thing around wherever he pleased. Mark raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Impressive, yeah? It's fingerprint activated. You slid your thumb across this side panel, and bang.” He said. Mark nodded.   
  
“And the clean up?” He asked.   
  
Dan pressed something on the bottom of the lowest barrel. There was another white flash, and Dan carefully held onto one specific part while the rest of it whirred and collapsed on itself. In an instant, it was back to a necklace.   
  
Dan clicked the ports on the chain, and it snapped back to exactly how it was before. Then he smirked.   
  
“Does that look like something you’re interested in?” Phil asked.   
  
Mark nodded. “Yeah - but, I'd like to make a few of my own additions, if I could.”  
  
Dan made an arm sweeping motion. “Come on in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how's it going so far lovelies


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the babe is arriving

Mark’s back ached from leaning over the screens with Dan and Phil. He had no idea how long he had been in the hub, but it must have been a few hours, at least. However, the design of his own weapon and been completed, and he was incredibly satisfied with it.   
  
“Phil, if you don't mind, you could show him where the bar’s at.” Dan said, stretching. “I'm sure you're starving. Mamrie and the girls will take care of you - in fact, at this hour, I'm sure you'll meet many people there.”  
  
Mark nodded. “Sure - hey, thanks again guys.”  
  
Dan waved his hand. “It's our job. No problem, Mark.”  
  
Phil ushered him from the cavern.   
  
They walked for a moment before Phil stopped him. He pointed to the ceiling. “Think you can climb back up? I'll go first, so you can see how it works.”  
  
Mark watched as Phil jumped and grabbed a little rope handle that was embedded next to the door. From there, he quickly smacked the square open and transferred both hands to the ledge. Then it was just a matter of pulling himself up. Entirely, the process happened in about three seconds.   
  
Mark swallowed.   
  
Now that the door was open, however, it should be easier. At least, that's what he thought. He jumped, having to go higher than Phil. The rope fit into his hand, and he fumbled around to find the ledge. As his legs swung around, a sharp stab of pain to his abdomen made him squint his eyes closed. Awkwardly, he hauled himself up.   
  
Phil chuckled. “You get the hang of it, after a few times.”  
  
The sun was setting in the distance, bathing the town in orange and pink. Still, not many people were out above; but Mark took in truly how much space there was up here. Phil led him down the main road - Mark even recognized the place where Sean had previously taken him.   
  
Towards the end of the road, a building a bit larger than the others struck up. The windows were alright with a glow, and he could hear laughter and chattering.   
  
Phil held the door open. “After you.”  
  
Mark walked onto a square balcony. The bar was two story - except that from above ground, the second floor looked like the first. The balcony wrapped all the way around in a square, old railings allowing Mark to step forward and look down at the bar below.   
  
Tables and chairs and people; so, so many people. Conversations floated around him, the laughter louder and lighter. The bar itself was long and took up an entire wall. Three women were all dancing around each other, pouring drinks and frying food. Phil stepped up next to him.   
  
“So why didn't we just walk here from underground?” Mark asked.   
  
“There isn't an entrance from below. This is our way of forcing people to get some fresh air once in awhile.” Phil explained. Then he clapped a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Stairs are that way. I'm sure you'll make fast friends with a few people. See you around, Mark.” He smiled again. Mark returned it, genuine. He really did enjoy the company of the two techies.   
  
“Thanks again, Phil.”  
  
As Phil turned, Mark noticed a ring on his finger. It was gold, thin and simple.   
  
Mark couldn't help but wonder about it as the door shut behind him.   
  
He took in the bar once more and attempted to gear himself up for this. His transformation from this morning to this moment now was staggering, honestly. How Mark had been able to accept whatever weird lifestyle this was was beyond him. But… even though his overall distrust of the success of the project and the mysteriousness of ‘J’ was looming, the friendliness so far of those he had met was almost weighing out. Granted, Mark had only truly met three people. His initial kidnapper and his three-second encounter with red-haired girl didn’t exactly count.  
  
“Oi!” a female voice cut through the chatter below him. Mark hadn’t realized that as he was thinking, he had been mindlessly staring down at the bar. He met the gaze of a woman with her hands set defiantly on her hips.   
  
The woman has long, blonde hair that was curled in loose ringlets. The bottoms half of her hair was dyed bright pink. Her top was black and long-sleeved, cut so that a strip of her midriff was showing. A bright yellow skirt folded down to her calves allowed impressive black pumps to tap impatiently on the wood. Upon first inspection, the outfit looked normal, if not rather chic. However, Mark looked again.   
  
The scooped neck was lined with what looked like rivets. The ends of the sleeves cut up in thin pieces, coming to sharp points and allowing the skin of her wrists to be seen. Various pieces of cord were woven straight into the waistband of the skirt, going upwards and looping through holes in the shirt. Technically, because the two garments were connected, you could almost consider it a dress.   
  
Mark saw a glimpse of something silver and shiny right under the edge of her skirt.   
  
He met her eyes again.   
  
“Yea, you, lad. Get down here! No use in standing up there and staring at us all day. We won’t bite.”  
  
The woman had gained the attention of the bar, and with her last comment, a few people laughed.   
  
“We can’t promise that, now, Lou!” another voice called out. The woman rolled her eyes, then motioned again for Mark to come down.   
  
Meanwhile, Mark was mentally kicking himself. He shouldn’t have dallied for so long; now, everyone was focussed on him. Hesitantly, he walked towards the staircase that bent at a 90 degree angle to the bottom floor. His shoes tapped on the wood satisfyingly as he made his way down.   
  
The woman greeted him at the last step and instantly hooked her arm in his, locking elbows. She led him through the people as they continued their conversations. Mark noticed how she walked with a sway in her step and always had a grin on her face. Promptly, she plopped them both down in front of the bar and held out her hand.   
  
“Louise Watson, thank you.”   
  
Mark took her hand. He had only known this woman for all of two seconds, a new record, and yet he still smiled at her. She just seemed to radiate happiness.   
  
There was a man sitting to the left of Louise, and as soon as Mark had taken her hand, she had swiped it back and was tapping the other on the shoulder.   
  
“Matt - Matt!”  
  
Matt turned on his stool. He had vibrant green eyes and a swooped back poof of brown hair. He, too, smiled at Mark and held out a hand.   
  
“Matt Watson, pleasure. And you?”  
  
Mark shook it and smiled again. “Mark,” and he didn’t know why, but this couple prompted his last name from his lips as well. “Fischbach. Mark Fischbach.”  
  
“Lovely to meet you, Mark.” Louise said. She casually gestured to the rest of the bar. “I hope that no one has been to rude to you. We’re usually pretty good, but we all have our days, of course.” she took both of Mark’s hands in her own, inspecting. Mark was rather speechless, wanting to laugh and pull away at the same time.   
  
“All ten fingers - that’s the best start you could have!” she said, patting his hand. “I assume that you’ve met Dan and Phil, as well. Nice chaps, they are.”  
  
Her words spilled from her lips at a million miles an hour. Mark kept up as best he could.   
  
“Oh, yeah, they helped me out with a weapon. Nice guys.”  
  
Louise nodded. “I was here when Phil arrived. Of course, he came first, then Dan did. Got to go to their w-” she stopped abruptly, then leaned in close. “Well, I’m not supposed to really say. They didn’t want it to be a big deal, especially when there’s always so much else goin’ on ‘round here. But I did get to go to their wedding - oh, it was so lovely. There were only a few of us there, me and Cat and the likes. PJ and Chris were there as well, I think.” she leaned back again. “Matt and I weren’t married here, of course. We came as a package deal.” she patted Matt’s arm, turning and grinning at him. He kissed her forehead.   
  
Abruptly, a girl with blonde hair sweeping over her eyes and undercut up the sides slid next to them at the bar.   
  
“Name’s Hannah.” she held out her hand. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Mark took their hand and greeted them.   
  
“Can I get you something to drink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> louise is goals basically


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mark is having a bit of a problem

Mark tipped back the last of his first beer, listening to Louise’s light chatter. Hannah, one of the three bartenders, had introduced him to her counterparts Mamrie and Grace. All three of them he found hilarious and enjoyed their company.   
  
There wasn’t a single clock in the building, but he could look up and see the darkness through the balcony windows. His stomach growled.   
  
“Oh, look at me, keeping you here without a bite to eat.” Louise frowned. “You should speak up and tell me when my gabbing has run its course.”  
  
Louise stood and motioned for Mark to come with her. She scanned the crowd, squinted, seeming to look for someone. “Let’s see… who can I send you off with for dinner…”  
  
Someone stepped forward, standing from a corner table. Mark recognized him instantly - leather vest and all. What really unnerved him was the genuine smile on his face now.   
  
“Mark, was it?” he asked, extending his hand. Mark warily took it, nodding.   
  
“My name is Jack. It’s a pleasure to officially meet.”  
  
Louise tapped his arm and smiled. “I’m sure they’d love to have you sit in for dinner, Mark - come find me anytime, I’d love to chat again!” and she disappeared back to the bar.   
  
Mark turned back to Jack, looking him up and down again. He looked similar, except now the gloves and mouth-covering were gone. In fact, the bands that covered his arms were cut to short-sleeves now as well. Jack made an exasperated noise.   
  
“Oh, come on, you know I was just doing my job.” Mark looked at his grin again. Amazing how a smile could change an appearance.   
  
“Come on - I’ll introduce you to some friends of mine.”  
  
Mark followed Jack back to his table - three women sat around the opposite side, with three empty seats across from them. Jack waved his hand out to the three, who all smiled at him.   
  
“This is Signe, Molly, and Mandy - this is Mark, that new guy I was telling you about.” Jack sat down in the seat across from Signe and motioned for him to take the seat next to him.   
  
“Aren’t these seats saved for someone?” Mark asked. Jack shrugged.   
  
“Nothing is stopping us from just stealing another chair.”  
  
So Mark sat - and he chatted up two mystery women, his former almost-assassin, and the assassin’s also trained-assassin girlfriend.   
  
Honestly, his mind was spinning.   
  
Jack ordered something for all of them, items that Mark didn't hear nor care to understand, honestly. He was focused more on inspecting his new tablemates.   
  
Molly and Mandy were both very kind and smiley, and to Mark, they were the most similar in appearance to people he had previously known when he was younger. Signe, Jack’s girlfriend, intrigued him the most. She had long, golden blonde hair that was highlighted in the dim bar. Her eyes were a grey green and calculating, rimmed with dramatic liner and long lashes. Her lips were a dark shade of red, constantly turned in an unreadable half smile. She was wearing a scooped dress patterned in teal and black snake skin. Mark only hoped that the fabric was simply patterned that way, and a few snakes were’t killed in the process.   
  
A peachy pink sweater was pulled over her shoulders, sleeves stopping just above her elbows. A dramatic, jeweled necklace hung heavy around her neck.   
  
However, Mark was specifically entranced by her right hand. Or, rather, her lack of one.   
  
Instead of a human hand, a polished, whirring metal one was in its place. She tapped her fingers lightly on the tabletop, the metal clicking softly.   
  
Judging by what he had seen so far, Mark could only imagine what kinds of horrors were hidden in each of her fingers.   
  
“Mark, I saw the weapons design that Dan sent me; clever, really. I’ve already started my topical design of it.” Signe said. Mark looked back up at her, arching an eyebrow.   
  
“What?”   
  
“Oh-” she laughed lightly. “I forgot to mention, I'm part of the design team around here. In fact -” she slid a finger across a strip of silver metal by her wrist. “I'm looking at your designs right now.”  
  
Mark squinted too look closer as a tiny light popped up behind the grey-green of her iris. Mark gasped.   
  
“No way - that is so _cool_.”  
  
Signe laughed. “Show him what you can do, Sean. I'll send you the design.”  
  
Mark turned his attention to Jack and his green eye. An orange light flashed, then a blue. Just like that, Jack blinked and a projected image of Mark’s weapon design that he had worked on for hours with Dan and Phil was floating above their table.   
  
Mark reached out and poked a finger through the hologram. Jack blinked, and the image disappeared. “Hey, get your hands out of my display!” He said, laughing.   
  
Molly pointed behind Jack and Mark. “Bob and Wade have finally arrived!” She said, to which one of two men coming down the stairs laughed. Each man was tall, one larger around and sporting glasses on his nose. Mark started to get up, setting his napkin on the table, but Jack grabbed his arm.   
  
“No no, ya doof, you've got no need to leave. Here, let me introduce you to my friends-” Jack stood and took the thinner one’s hand, shaking it. “Wade! Hey, this is Mark, he's new as of this morning.”  
  
Wade held out his hand for Mark, smiling goofily. “Good to see you didn't get cut up in a million pieces by this doofus.” He gestured to Jack, who threw his hands up exhasperatedly.   
  
“Everyone’s always yellin’ at me for doin’ my job…” He sighed. “Hey, Bob - this is Mark.”  
  
Bob nodded, giving a small smile.   
  
Wade grabbed another chair and pulls himself up to the end of the table seated next to Molly. Molly leaned over and placed a kiss on Wade’s cheek. Bob, then, sat down next to Mark and smiled at Mandy.   
  
_Good God - I'm the only man in this town that’s single, aren't I?_  Mark thought.   
  
As the night progressed, Mark settled into a strange sense of friendship with the six around him. Bob, Wade, and Jack were all extremely friendly and kept conversation with him through the entire meal. The three women were quieter, almost scrutinizing him, but they were never cold towards him or rude. The darkness grew darker and the lights in the bar burned brighter.   
  
Mark finished his third drink, almost falling asleep in his chair. He was thoroughly exhausted, but he had no idea on where to go to find anywhere to sleep and didn't really feel like asking. Instead, he put a hand carefully on his side. Throughout dinner, a dull, throbbing pain in his chest had been bugging him in the back of his mind.   
  
“So we walked in, but Felix was like - hey, Mark, you alright?” Jack paused in the middle of a story to send a glance Mark’s way. Mark sat up gingerly, waving him off. “Of course, go on. Felix was?”   
  
But Mark doubled over, his nerves on fire. Pain bloomed in his chest and his abdomen and his whole front side was in agony. He looped his arms around his midsection, grimacing. He ground his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. Mark was vaguely aware of a hand on his arm on either side.   
  
Bob’s hand wrapped around Mark’s bicep, trying to push him back from his curled up position. “Mark? Hey, Mark-”   
  
Jack took his other arm and shook him. “Hey, buddy, come on. Are you alright?”   
  
Signe stood, leaning over the table and placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Sean, you’ve got to get him help.” She said, her words laced with worry. Mandy stood as well, pushing her chair out of the way.   
  
They had certainly caught the attention of other patrons of the bar. So much so, in fact, that from a few table over, two men stood and walked at a brisk pace to Mark’s side.   
  
“Hey, sugarplum, time to get you to a med-bay.” One of them said.   
  
Mark hardly registered any of this, but was aware of being made to stand.   
  
Then his vision fades into purple hues, white spots dancing before him. His legs go deadweight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy SHIT


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> medical hoo haa

“Mark?”   
  
A voice pushed through layers and layers of fogginess. Consciousness was an idea too far out of his grasp at this point. The sound waves buffeted against his sleepy mind softly.   
  
“Maaaark, come on, we need some verification here.”  
  
Mark didn't really know if he even had control over any of his limbs, let alone his eyes. But somewhere, a cell in his brain told his eyelids to open.   
  
Horrific white light blinded him promptly. The pain still thrummed in his insides, threatening to close his eyes for him. In fact, his kids started to drop again.   
  
“Ah ah ah, no no, you can't rest yet.” The disembodied voice said, clearer to him this time. It was American, almost snarky. A hand pressed at the base of his spine, sitting him up manually.   
  
“We need you to pay attention, Mark.” A different voice. His eyes desperately tried to adjust, pinpointing the people who were speaking to him. He made out three shapes, so far.   
  
“You with us? Good - Mark, how many fingers am I holding up?”  
  
Mark focussed on a man right in front of him who was holding his hand out. He counted one, two, three - but it took more effort to speak than to count.   
  
“Three?” he finally said, his voice wheezy and quiet. The man nodded and grinned, then disappeared behind another man, this one with wilder hair than the first.  
  
“Mark, are you at all aware of where you are?” he asked, clipboard in hand. A woman scurried behind him, busy with a selection of tools in her hands.   
  
“Not in the slightest.” he said. Mark tried to sit up again, but the man pushed a hand on his chest. He squished back into a pillow.   
  
“Mark, you’re experiencing liver failure as well as the corruption of a few of your other internal organs, including your heart.” the man explained. The severity of his words resonated in Mark’s foggy head, and he snapped to attention.   
  
“Who are you?” he asked.   
  
The man smiled. “We’re going to be your doctors today - and we need a stamp of approval from you to do what we need to in order to salvage your insides.” He turned to the other man. “Arin? Give your fastest explanation possible, please.”  
  
The other one smirked. “What we’re going to do is implement some mechanics to replace what’s failed inside of you. It’s safe and harmless, as soon as your body adapts to it - the system will wire through your liver, kidneys, and through various vessels into your heart. Because the chips and wires we’re going to put in will go to your heart, it will change how you function overall. Do you give us permission to do so?”  
  
The gist Mark received from all of this was that instead of human organs, he was going to have robot ones.   
  
“Will it save me?” he asked.   
  
“The woman spoke up as she was faced the other way, preparing a needle of some sort. “Yes - it’s the only method of saving you, at this point.”  
  
Mark only nodded. “Do it, then.”  
  
The woman turned around, smiled sweetly, then told him to breath. He did - then the needle splunged into his arm. In mere seconds, everything went black.   
  
\---  
  
His dreams were weirder than any he had ever experienced. It was like he was still awake, still aware, but completely under the influence of the drug they had administered him.   
  
He could feel no pain, but something in his brain told him that his body was being violated like crazy. His subconscious told him kindly that his entire front was probably cut open and his insides currently being removed and replaced with foreign metal ones. But Mark’s drugged brain also told him that it was keeping him alive. So he allowed strangers to go at him with their scalpels and syringes, and at one point, he even thought,  
  
 _Do your worst._  
  
\---  
  
It was a strange sense of deja vu. The bright lights, the burbling voices pushing through to his head. Except now, the pain was greatly subsided.   
  
“Awake so soon?” a female voice said.   
  
Mark focussed his eyesight. Some kind of painkiller, he was sure, was messing with his senses and his thought process. But if it kept whatever pain he should be in away, he was alright with it. Mark turned his head slowly and met the eyes of the girl from earlier. Her hands were flying along a keyboard, a large screen in front of her.   
  
She had long, black hair with one stripe of yellow-blonde on the right side. Her makeup was dramatic, sharp and angular. In fact, her face as a whole was quite sharp and judgmental. Her scrubs were black and baggy, covering every inch of her.   
  
“How do you feel?” she asked, fingernails clicking.   
  
Mark’s voice came out in a whisper. “Like hell.”  
  
She smiled. “Good - that means we did something right.” Mark noted that her smile brightened all of her features. Her voice was light and lilting, and Mark gave a small grin back at her.   
  
“You need to rest. None of us expected you to be up so soon. We’ll consult with you after the painkillers have worn off a bit.”  
  
Mark nodded, but opened his mouth. She looked at him expectantly.   
  
“Who are you?” it was the second time he had asked the question, and the second time he got an indirect answer.   
  
“No one important right now. Rest.”  
  
Mark dozed off to the sound of a monitor beating in time with his heart. As he slipped away, he thought about how much of his real heart he had left.   
  
It was like some sick groundhog day. Mark kept waking up to the blinding lights, to the muffled voices. And there was so much that he didn’t understand. The lack of knowledge on what had happened to him and what these ‘doctors’ had done to him was worse than the steadily increasing pain as he woke up each time.   
  
Keeping track of each awakening was pointless to him. Instead, he waited for the acme of his pain, the worst his body had to offer. He knew, then, that he would be truly awake, truly aware. That time came on what must have been the sixth time he had opened his eyes.   
  
Everything was crystal clear when he looked around the room, now. The time it took for his eyes to adjust was seconds compared to minutes. He had no interest in the surroundings - he had no care for any of the tech hanging on the walls or the crinkly paper beneath him. He cared about answers - and there were two people in the room that he could get those from.   
  
Mark coughed, the action making him grimace horribly. But the sound caught the attention of the men, who were both hunched over some tablet. One of them clapped his hands together and gave a patronizing smile.   
  
“Aha, so you’re up. Are you going to stay awake this time? I’m sure you’ve just got buckets of things to ask us.” he said. Mark raised his arms and propped himself into a more seated position.   
  
“No shit.” he said bitterly, but the effect was weak since his vocal cords were so underused. The other man laughed as they both pulled their wheeling chairs up beside him. They each stretched.   
  
“Alright, alrighty aye, now -” the one with brown hair cut around his chin cracked his knuckles. “Pleased to finally meet you, Mark, my name’s Arin. I’ve just spent three days monitoring how many times you’ve needed to pee - I think we’re on a good enough level to shake hands, yeah?” he raised an eyebrow expectantly. Mark almost laughed as he took his hand and gave a small shake.  
  
“And I’m Danny - perhaps not as idiotic, but idiotic all the same.” the opposite one said. He had wild, curly brown hair that framed his face and a wide smile.   
  
Mark blinked. “And you two are the guys that just cut me wide open?” he asked. Danny laughed.   
  
“Hard to believe we’re certified, right?”   
  
A door swung open and that woman walked in again. She jumped at seeing Mark up, and Arin and Danny surrounding him. But then she sighed.   
  
“About time, then. Ready to get to work on explaining what we’ve done to poor Mark over here?” she asked.   
  
Arin swung around in his chair and grabbed a monitor attached to the wall. It followed him as he faced Mark, extending on it’s long retractor. The woman tapped some keys on a port and an image of a man came up on the screen. Arin pointed at the shape.   
  
“That’s you.” he said calmly. The image zoomed in on Mark’s abdomen, highlighting oblong shapes.   
  
“And everything colored yellow is made of metal.”  
  
Mark couldn’t identify what was what in his body, but he could see that almost half of his insides were now made of metal. He swallowed.   
  
“Alright. Well - I’m alive, that’s well and good, but what is all this stuff doing to me?” he asked. Danny cleared his throat.   
  
“We had to repair some major damage in your liver and kidneys. As it turns out, you cannot process alcohol. That has nothing to do with your liver - it just so happened that you were drinking a beer while your internal organ systems failed. So while we were in there, we also had to patch up your heart.” he pointed at an intricate spider’s web of wires that threaded through various chambers of Mark’s heart.   
  
“What all of this is doing it allowing everything to function normally, as a unit again. Mechanical valves and on-off systems are making what’s left of your actual organs do their job. When everything shut down, we couldn’t just restart it. Think of all of this as a permanent jumper cable for your insides.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s very helpful, Dan.” the woman said. Dan scoffed.   
  
“Pardon me, Suzy, but I’m just trying to make this all more comprehensible.”  
  
“ _Anyway_ , thank you, this also means you’ve got some… other things that are new.” Arin continued. “Besides the scars and new additions, you can probably do some trivial stuff that’ll impress your friends. For example, you can hold your breath extra long or go a super long time without having to pee.” he shrugged. “Just for funsies.”  
  
Suzy tapped a key. “Oh, and, another thing. Your brain is still in control of all of your new technology. But for it to be able to grab a good signal and continue to make everything work, we needed to do a bit of...rewiring.”  
  
She showed another image of a long cord that travelled up the length of Mark’s spine and delicately wove its way into his head. Mark blanched.   
  
“You put wires in my _brain_?” he said exasperatedly. Arin shrugged.   
  
“Hey, you gave up permission. And we saved your life, so-”  
  
“Arin!” Suzy smacked his arm. He merely raised an eyebrow.  
  
“That… _also_ added some fun stuff.” Danny explained. “For instance - what’s 1,800 times 2,387?”  
  
“4,296,600.” Mark answered instantly. Then he froze.   
  
Arin smirked. “Welcome to the freak show.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda a shit chapter but I do not apologize


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chAracTer chAttEr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm listening to the Les Miserables soundtrack and Anne Hathaway is screaming in my ears

The full length mirror before him caught the light strangely, casting a glow over his body that he wasn’t used to. Mark looked at his skin, how orange it seemed. The color also illuminated the fresh scars.   
  
He looked at the long incision across his chest and abdomen. Craning his neck, he also looked at the thinner line down his spine. Subconsciously, he asked himself, How the hell am I alive?  
  
The horrifying part is that his mind answered.   
  
“Stop, stop -” he pressed his hands to his head. “I don’t want this.” he rapped sharply on his temple.   
  
There was a soft knock on the door. “Mark?”  
  
Mark yanked the drawstring on the long, baggy pants around his waist. He pulled a plain white t-shirt over his head and opened the door. Suzy smiled lightly at him.   
  
“I brought you something you might like. Here.” she shoved a pile of clothes in Mark’s hands.   
  
Mark smiled back at her. “I appreciate this, Suzy. Really.”   
  
She laughed. “It’s no problem, Mark. I enjoy it, actually. I love finding fashions.”  
  
“I can tell.” he replied, first looking at the pile of discarded clothes she had already brought him, then scanning her own outfit.   
  
She wore a skin-tight dress that went down to her mid-thigh. The print started out black, but faded into a sky blue. Except, the sky blue _was_ actually the sky. Clouds dotted the fabric, flowing down to touch the tops of mountains. The bottom half of the dress was sandy, the desert floor with dunes sinking and rising. Over her shoulders was a black leather jacket, going down to her wrists and lopping over her middle finger on each hand. Black leather boots went up just barely past her knees, only allowing a small section of her leg show. The heels on the boots were killer, and Mark really had no idea how she wasn’t sinking into the dirt.   
  
She poked her tongue out at him, waving him back into the room. Her wedding band glinted in the mysterious light as well.   
  
Mark shut the door again and looked at the clothes in his arms. Sighing, he began to undress again.   
  
After another moment, he looked in the mirror.  
  
He had on a pair of jeans, one leg bright red, and the other black. They became skinny at his ankles, allowing the high-topped shoes to ties snuggly around. His first shirt layer was simply a white t-shirt, but it was lighter and baggier than the one he had on previously. It was cut higher in the front and back than on the sides, showing the row of silver buttons on his jeans. Then over that was a red, cloth vest that hung loosely over his shoulders. The shade matched his jeans; bright.   
  
He had one little black sleeve, about five inches long. He slipped it on his right arm over his wrist, leaving his left wrist bare. For now, at least.   
  
Mark ran a hand through his hair, letting it flop over his forehead.   
  
“Mark?” Suzy called impatiently. “Hurry up!”  
  
“I’m coming, sheesh-” he pulled open the door. Suzy had her hands on her hips. Her eyebrows raised, then lowered. Her eyeliner only made her look even more menacing.   
  
“I like it.” she said simply.   
  
Mark grinned. “Me too.”  
  
\--  
  
Mark took a long walk with Danny and Arin through the tunnels. After about ten minutes of walking, his body began to ache, but Danny informed him that they were very close to their destination.  
  
Arin snorted. “Well yeah, but you’ve still got to climb out of here.”  
  
“Arin, seriously -” Danny laughed.   
  
Mark really did enjoy the company of the two, but every moment he spent with them, his trust that they had truly fixed him up decreased. But hey, he wasn’t dead, so at least he had that.   
  
Right in front of them, a square of light opened up and a person fell down into a squat. In her kneeling position, her hair touched the ground.   
  
Mark’s brain pointed out that he had definitely seen this girl before. Well, his original brain told him he recognized her. His new wired-up brain told him the date that he saw her, the context he had seen her in, and why he exactly recognized her.   
  
The cape gave it away.   
  
As she stood, her hair fell in long waves, starting brown and morphing into golden blonde. A large, black sunhat sat on top of her head, while the tall collar of the black cape came up to hide half of her face.   
  
The initial perception was very different from the blue and white checkered dress that hung loosely on her frame and the frilled cream sleeves. Her socks were knee-high and had little bows on the knees, and her shoes were little black pumps.   
  
For a second, she gave Mark an icy stare, similar to the one he had first received days ago. Then she gave him a once over, and glanced at the two accompanying him, and flashed a brilliant smile.   
  
“Hello! You must be Mark.” she said. Her accent was impossibly thick; Italian, he guessed. Danny held up a hand.   
  
“Hey, Marzia. How are you?” he asked, grinning. Marzia shifted her weight onto one hip.   
  
“Oh, I’m fine. I had to send Felix on a trip to get some stuff from the shop so I could come down and pick up my new stuff from the Lesters.” she winked. Arin gasped.   
  
“Marzia! So devious.” he clucked his tongue. Marzia bit her tongue.   
  
“Don’t tell Felix, you tattles.” then she waved at Mark. “Hope to see you around again, Mark!”  
  
She waltzed off down the tunnel.   
  
Arin gave a brief, sarcastic description of the woman and her boyfriend, Felix. Then they reached their destination.   
  
“Lodging, if you will.” Danny swept an arm out before them. A door larger, but less impressive than the one that led to J’s office stood before them on a huge expanse of dirt wall. Danny pulled a huge handle. Artificial light spilled over them, almost blinding Mark after his eyes had gotten so accustomed to the dim fiery tunnels.  
  
The initial area was small, a sort of rectangle stretching to each side. A long desk was to the right, and a door with a large panel to the side of it was to the left. Arin and Danny each looked at each other, then Mark.   
  
“Hey, we’ve got to get going. Are you alright from here?”  
  
Mark stumbled. “I - what am I doing?”  
  
“You go talk to them,” Arin pointed to the desk. “And you get your key. Then you find your room. Figure stuff out. You know, the like.”  
  
Mark nodded, but he silently wished they wouldn’t leave him. It was not only his first time up and about since the procedures, but he was being trusted to know what he was doing. And after he found his room - what then? Did he just remain in his room forever?  
  
But he didn’t say any of this.   
  
“Sounds good.” he smiled tightly. “Thank you guys again, honestly. I owe you something, right?”  
  
Danny laughed. The sound was still music to Mark’s ears. “Of course not. Newbie special, dude.” he prodded Mark’s arm. “Just stay out of trouble.”  
  
They started to turn, but Mark hesitated. Arin raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something else.   
  
“What did you mean, by the way?” He pushed out. Out of all the questions in his head, Mark had no idea why this was the only one that took priority. “When you welcomed me to the freak show. What did you mean?”  
  
Arin chuckled, crossing his arms. “I meant, welcome to the most mismatched place on the planet. We’ve got everyone here, and most of them have something a little quirky in their ways.” He pointed to his eye. “You met Jack. Eyeball guy. And Wiishu, robotic hand.”   
  
Mark persisted. “That’s only two people, though. What else makes it strange?”  
  
“Well, you’ve seen the vibes. We are all dug underground, away from the rest of the world to stop a war. That’s one point on the ‘freak’ side. You’ve seen how we dress, how paranoid everyone is. The very first thing you did when you got here was get a weapon, right?” Arin continued.   
  
He looked over his shoulder, and to each side of him as if checking to see if anyone was around. He even opened his mouth to say something else, but then he made eye contact with Dan. His lips snapped shut.   
  
Mark nodded slowly. “Ok. I’ll buy it.”  
  
“Damn right you will. Now get out of our hair!” Dan sing-songed as the pair walked away.   
  
Mark turned toward the desk with an uneasy pit in his stomach. His distrust of this place was returning quickly. He emphasized the word place - it wasn’t necessarily the people he didn’t trust here. In fact, they seemed like the kindest people he had met in a while. But the overall vibe of the town, he didn’t like.   
  
The person behind the desk asked for Mark’s name, typed it into a tablet, and gave him a close-lipped smile. His face had popped up on the screen, a purple dot in the corner of the picture. His gut twisted at the picture - never had he ever posed for a photo like that.   
  
The woman handed Mark a fob, which they instructed him to wave in front of the panel by the door on the left. His room was 256.  
  
Mark complied, watching as the door slid open.   
  
A hallway with doors all along the right side spanned in front of him. He swallowed in awe as realization hit him. The dirt wall alongside him to the left as he had been walking with Arin and Danny had been concealing this entire expanse, with room just on the other side. The door closest to him had a 200 on it. He sighed and started walking to find 256.  
  
Actually, it didn’t take him that long to reach the oak door. He swiped the fob across another scanner, and a little green light blinked at him. The door swung open on command.   
  
His hand stroked the wall in search of a light switch. When his fingers brushed against a little button, he clicked it.   
  
Fluorescent lights bounced off of clean white surfaces and shiny screens. A bed with thin blankets and one pillow was in the far corner with a little nightstand next to it. On the wall opposite the bed, a huge screen splayed out above a dresser. He was shocked to open the drawers and find stacks of clothes. A tiny note was taped to a pair of pants.   
  
_For all your future fashion needs!_  
 _< 3Suzy_  
  
Mark smiled, placing the note aside. Dirt still shuffled under his feet, but it was tightly packed here and had no give to it. He stepped back and looked at a full bathroom to the left. A chair and table was pressed into the corner closest to the door, accompanying a mini fridge on the floor.   
  
Altogether, the room was shaped like a rectangle. Mark was sure that every room he had passed to get here looked exactly the same, all pressed in a row, rectangle to rectangle.   
  
He ran a hand through his hair again, tugging at his shirt.   
  
A tiny screen pinged, lighting up. He hadn’t noticed the thing sitting at the dining table. The screen was blue with a little white message. He squinted to read it.   
  
**M. Fischbach, please come to the Tech Hub at your earliest convenience to pick up your custom weapon(s).**  
 _D &P_  
  
That settled the question of what to do after he discovered his room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weapons basically

Mark hooked the small port onto a belt loop, silencing the screen. A mirror hung above the dresser, and he ruffled his hair lightly. His eye caught a small circle of elastic with a clasp holding it together hanging on the edge of his mirror. Carefully, he took it and examined it. It was black with the tiny clasp positioned so it could be buckled around something - he looked at the fob he was given for the lodging.   
  
Mark stepped out of his room, keys jingling on the belt loop beside his screen, the elastic band clipped on tightly.   
  
As Mark walked, he only allowed himself time to think, which was dangerous. It was like he needed company, vied for the presence of another person to take his mind off of this. So long as he didn’t dwell on anything, he could keep living in this fairytale world without a care. But the silence, coupled with the thumping of his own shoes only caused him to reflect.   
  
If this town was a war-ceasing effort, he wasn’t going to be a part of it unless someone trained him at some point. Otherwise, he would run blindly next to these strange folks yelling battle cries and being slaughtered in the process. He would most likely die no matter what - Mark had no perception of sleuthing, combat, or anything useful for stopping the biggest war in history.   
  
His feet continued to carry him. He passed multiple people, but none of them spoke, so neither did he. He did observe, however. A woman with long, black hair that swished flawlessly as she walked. Another woman, this one with hair dyed a brighter red than his pants. Someone walked quickly, a bag on their shoulder and their eyes scanning a page of text furiously. They took a sharp turn down an opposite tunnel, muttering incomprehensible things under their breath.   
  
Mark saw the hub up ahead, and as it truly came into view, he saw that it looked exactly the same as when he had been here days ago. To Mark, he had only been up and about for two days. But in reality, his stay in Heartland was growing to be a week long or more, at this point.   
  
He knocked lightly on a blue frame that arched up above him. Only one man stood, looking over what could possibly be a map, hands on his hips. Dan looked up at the noise, still lost in thought at first. But when he recognized Mark, he smiled.   
  
“Mark - you got the message, I assume?” he asked, coming out from around the table. Mark nodded, taking a step inside. But he only got about two feet into the hub when Dan sidestepped him, taking his shoulder and spinning him back around.   
  
“Actually, we’ll be going somewhere different to pick up your stuff. We design, not create.” he chuckled. Once again, Mark walked through the tunnels.   
  
“How are you, Mark? I heard about what happened -” Dan started. Mark waved him off.   
  
“Oh, I’m fine. Over it now. Danny and Arin and that whole team got me up again pretty quickly.” he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Dan nodded.   
  
“What’d they do? Oh, if you don’t mind me asking. I just find the biomechanics interesting.” Dan continued. Mark thought for a moment.   
  
“The implemented some new systems that run my liver and kidney automatically, since they failed. But I had heart problems, too, causing them to do some work on the valves. Because they had to wire so much, there now a length of cable going up my spine into my head -” Mark said this all in one breath, so he paused to gulp in some air. Then he sighed. “Which now allows me some news perks that I don’t exactly want.”  
  
Dan blinked in surprise. “I’ve heard of people getting similar spinal restructuralization, but not in the way you needed it.” he shrugged. “Those Grumps are really coming far.”  
  
“Grumps?”  
  
“Oh, yeah, the medical team that worked with you. They like the name the Grumps.” Dan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why. They’re all just kids that just so happened to know exactly what they were doing.”  
  
Mark snorted. “Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better.”  
  
Before Dan could reply, Mark spotted Phil around the next corner. He had been standing with his arms crossed, probably looking for them, so he waved to Mark when they came into view. Mark smiled back, and Dan trailed behind.   
  
“Hey, Mark! Going to pick up your stuff?” he asked. Mark shrugged.   
  
“I guess so. Pretty sure that’s what I came here for.”  
  
Phil’s eyes were bright. He turned around, looking for someone.   
  
“Signe? Mark’s here. You good?”  
  
Signe, whom Mark also recognized instantly, poked her head out from behind a door. From the open slot, Mark could hear quite a ruckus.   
  
“Yeah, we’re just cooling it off one more time. You can never be too sure.” she winked, then turned back inside. Mark heard her yell a few names, possibly Bob and Wade, but he couldn’t be sure. Instead, Phil offered for him to sit on the tabletop as he plopped himself down too. Dan sat on the other side of Phil.   
  
“Mark was telling me about his procedure.” Dan said to Phil, leaning his shoulder into the opposite. Phil’s eyes widened.   
  
“Oh, of course! How are you?”  
  
Mark smiled. “Fine, really. Just adjusting.”  
  
“I want to do some more studies on biomechanical things, Phil.” Dan said. Mark could see the change in how Phil looked at him, versus how he looked at the man next to him. His heart warmed.   
  
“Alright. We can do biomechanics now that Mark’s project is done.” Phil replied, smiling at Dan quietly. The door banged open, revealing Signe. Her brow was beaded with sweat, a bandana tied around her hair so that the stray pieces didn’t fall in her face.   
  
“Bob and Wade will be right out,” she paused, making a face. “Well, probably. If they do, thank them, not me. They did all the hard work. I just yelled.” she laughed lightly. Somehow, even dirty and sweat-stained, she was still sharply gorgeous. He almost cursed Jack for getting so lucky.   
  
In one gloved hand, she held a little box with a small ribbon tied around it. Phil sat on his hands excitedly. Mark took the box gingerly, examining the outside. Signe laughed.   
  
“You don’t have to be so tentative. That things is incredibly sturdy - it’s built for combat, silly. Open it up!” she said, walking closer and crossing her arms.   
  
Mark untied the ribbon and stared at the thing.   
  
It looked like it was made out of leather, but as Mark picked it up, the material was not pliant. Rather, it was very sturdy and had hinges on either side of the clasp for him to open it up.   
  
He undid the clips and snapped them back into place around his wrist. The bracelet fit perfectly - it was about two inches wide and didn’t spin with he moved his arm around, snug as a bug.   
  
Signe smiled. “I took a few liberties. But besides my own design touches, it's exactly like what you came up with.” So tapped on the side of the bracelet closest to Mark’s body. “Slide your index finger across that little strip. It activates only only to you.”  
  
Mark did as she said, and felt the entire thing vibrate twice. He made a first with his hand, as he had said in his design plans and watched as the bottom of the thing opened up.   
  
A long blade sprang from the compartment, the metal sliding over Mark’s closed fist. When that had finished, he opened his hand. The blade, with a strip of leather wrapped around the base, lauded lightly over his hand so that if he just curled his fingers around the grip, the sword was at his command.   
  
It was probably about two feet long, shining like it had just been polished. He grinned.   
  
“Like it?” Signe asked.   
  
“It's incredible - what about the -?”   
  
“There's a button on the left corner closest to you knuckle. Press that.”   
  
So Mark did. And two panels opened up from the face of the bracelet, allowing a tiny pistol to unfold and click bullets into place. Mark lines up the thing in his vision - the aiming capability was exquisite.   
  
Again, he slid his index finger across the bar and the sword collapsed, folding back into the underside. The pistol also crumpled into a 2D form. He marveled at the fact that the bracelet was barely a half an inch thick.   
  
“This is so amazing - thank you guys so much, I-” Mark was cut of by alarms screaming in his ears. His port buzzed urgently on his waist. Those around him all snapped to attention.   
  
“What is that?” Mark yelled. Signe cocked her hand as if it were a gun - Mark saw a bullet sliding its way into place in his index finger.   
  
“We’re under attack.”  
  
Dan and Phil were gone when Mark turned back around. Signe out her hand on his shoulder and pushed him farther back into the room.   
  
“Stay. Here.” She ordered, and ran out into the tunnels.   
  
Mark clasped his bracelet, frozen.   
  
Minutes agonizingly went by as he stood, back pressed against the wall. The siren had died down, but still chirped softly in the background. Slowly, he activated his sword.   
  
The mantel slid silently into his palm, and he took a step forward. And another.   
  
Then he was on the ground.   
  
Something snarling, snapping, oozing - the weight was huge on his chest, pushing him into the ground. Some maw of a beast unbeknownst to him breathed hotly on his face. His arm was out to the side, pinned beneath some claw. If there was pain, he didn't feel it. All he felt was panic.   
  
Mark assumed there was no better time to try out his weapon than when his life depended on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh DAMN


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so much ADRENALINE

Jack was sprinting. His legs were carrying him faster than he thought he could go - his knife pulsed in the palm of his hand almost in time with his breathing. For maybe the third time that week, he cursed their tunnel system and its capability to make even a short route long.   
  
His boots skidded in the dirt and rocks, sending a spray of them forward and he almost lost his balance. With the motion, the tie around his mouth fell down to hang by his neck. He grasped the side of the tunnel and rotated into the room.   
  
“Mark?” he called, gasping for a breath. His eyes scanned the place, desperate to find a person… but no one was in the armory. His eyes landed on a little gift box sitting on the floor - it looked like it had been trampled.   
  
_Oh no - no, no, this is very very bad, where could he have gone? The bastard -_ Jack’s mind was racing. He had one job; find Mark and make sure he was safe, and here he was, messing up his one mission. He smacked a hand against his forehead.   
  
His eyes swiveled around the area once more. He yanked open the door to the armory and was blasted with heat. He yanked his cloth haphazardly over his mouth.   
  
“Mark? Mark, you in here?” he yelled. He coughed, pulling the door closed and running back out to the tunnels. Jack didn’t care how much training they made him do - he hated running. His heart thudded so wildly he thought he might actually keel over.   
  
He started down the length of tunnel that he hadn’t come from, his feet heavily carrying him at a half-jog. Jack was lucky that his voice didn’t get hoarse often. Sweat threatened to bead on his forehead - he glared at the torches on the walls, then looked at his own long attire. He cursed protection and he cursed heat and he cursed that stupid Fischbach…  
  
Jack’s body was bowled onto the ground. As his back hit the ground, he vaguely heard a voice calling, “Watch out!”  
  
As his head pounded, Jack stared at the ceiling.  
  
 _What._  
  
Jack rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up in his elbows. He was about to lift himself up, seeing nothing in front of him, but a huge shape was mere inches from his face in less than a second. His mind couldn’t process what he was seeing, but he flattened himself to the floor and held his breath.   
  
Four huge paws all sidestepped around him.   
  
Jack stood as fast as he could. His breathing was ragged and uneven - he wouldn’t miss it this time. Whatever it was, he would see it and not be run over by it.   
  
Again, the hall was empty. And again, the thing came too fast for Jack to be able to see what it was. Instead, his eyes saw a glimpse of purple, so he stretched out his arms. His hands came in contact with coarse fur - his fingers latched on for dear life. It felt like his arms were going to be ripped from their sockets - he cried out at the jolt.   
  
Jack was moving faster than he had ever moved before. Everything was blurred so much that the tunnels didn’t even look like tunnels anymore. His body drug uncomfortably against the ground - at their speed, he was terrified they would hit a bump and his spine would shatter.   
  
With every ounce of strength he had, Jack pulled himself up so than he could swing a leg around the waist of the best. His biceps screamed at him, but he grit his teeth.   
  
“Whatever you do, do _not_ let go, do you hear me?” a voice commanded.   
  
Jack’s eyes met Mark’s.  
  
Mark was seated at the base of the thing’s neck. Both of his hands were curled around tufts of fur stained with red. His knuckles were white - and even though his face was stoic, his eyes were wild and panicked.   
  
Jack was farther back on the beast, the hair thinner, but more knotted. He better positioned himself across its torso, leaning down so that Mark was more of a wind barrier to him. Mark was bent over, as well, trying to use the massive head in front of him for leverage.   
  
“What the hell are you doing, Fischbach?” Jack screamed. Mark shook his head.   
  
“Trust me, okay?”  
  
“I don’t think I can. Do you even know what this thing is?” Jack replied.   
  
“Of course I don’t. Who do you think I am?”  
  
To Jack’s utter dismay, Mark grinned.   
  
In that span of time, the beast has just been circling, sprinting down one direction and then turning on a dime and going the other. Jack inspected the fur between his fingers - it was almost iridescent, mixes of purple and teal and white that could sparkle in the daylight. But the stuff was matted in places and horribly tangled. From what he could see, it was built like some sort of hound. But the hair around its neck especially resembled a lion. Jack wanted to get a good look at its face.   
  
“Can I trust you to catch me if I slip backwards?” Mark yelled. Jack’s eyes widened.  
  
“What in God’s name are you planning? You’re insane!” Jack screamed.   
  
“Can I trust you?”  
  
Jack remembered his promise.   
  
“Yes - sure, you can trust me.” he yelled back. “Just do what you’re going to do! Get us off of this thing, please!”  
  
“Working on it!” Mark screamed. To Jack’s horror, he slowly let go of the fur in his right hand. Then he rubbed some sort of bracelet against his opposite wrist. At another turn, Mark slid to the left. Jack bit his tongue against a scream, but he let go with his left hand and grabbed Mark’s waist.   
  
He watched as a long blade appeared in Mark’s hand. Jack blanched.   
  
Mark started furiously sawing at the fur on the neck of the beast. It was coarse and required a harsh back and forth movement to cut through, but soon, Mark was throwing tufts off to the side. In Jack’s perspective, the tufts just sort of disappeared into the void on either side of him.   
  
“Ha!” Mark laughed triumphantly, discarding one more chunk of hair.   
  
To Jack’s horror, the best roared hideously, the sound ringing in his ears. If it was even possible, it started to run faster.   
  
“You don’t happen to have a screwdriver, do you?” Mark asked, his hand grasping what looked like a panel. Jack’s head spun.   
  
“No, I don’t have a _screwdriver_!” he screamed. Mark’s eyes jumped all around the little contraption. Jack couldn’t get a good look at it, but it was shiny and reflective, painted to blend with the fur. He could see little silver screw heads.   
  
“This is like armor - casing, if you will.” Mark shouted back to Jack. “If I can get under it, we can get to its real skin and probably kill it.”  
  
“Use this to turn the heads.” Jack breathed deeply and wiggled his blade from its sheath. Every muscle in his body was shaking violently. His thighs were in fire from the effort of keeping him on.   
  
Mark took the knife shakily and unwound one, two, three screws. A square piece of panel went flying backwards, almost catching Jack in the head. He was going to protest, but now didn’t exactly seem like an appropriate time.   
  
“Well? Can you stab it now?” he questioned. Mark merely nodded. He held the knife in his one hand. Jack didn’t know if his hand was shaking because of the ride, or because of something else.   
  
“Just do it, Mark!” he screamed, wanting to bury his face into the fur beneath him and simply pray for this hell to end.   
  
Another second passed, and the beast was still moving.   
  
“Mark!” Jack screamed again.   
  
Mark looked like a deer caught in headlights. He was positively frozen.   
  
And then everything just sort of - stopped.   
  
The beast let out a horrific wail - it wasn’t dead, but it stumbled.  
  
Mark’s eyes were locked onto the long gash that Jack had cut into the things. The knife wasn’t in his hand any longer - he just looked at the crimson color and the holes where the screws had been done in.   
  
Jack slid his blade under the panel next to the one they had pried off and heaved. The screws popped out, panel flying behind them. Their scenery started to come into view as the things slowed. Jack took another long stab.   
  
This howl was greater and more forlorn. The things collapsed, legs going under it as Jack hit a tendon in its upper leg. Mark, still on top of it, went hurtling forward with the momentum. Jack, too, ended up on the ground, but closer to the thing.   
  
He pried off one more panel and slammed his knife down once more.   
  
It was silent.   
  
Mark sat up, breathing hard, eyes crazed. Jack was almost too calm for it to be natural. He nudged the animal once to see it if moved; it didn’t.  
  
Jack stood shakily, finding the wall for support. He threw his knife on the ground and tried to catch his breath, bending over at the waist.   
  
Mark just stared at the animal.   
  
“You alright, Mark? That was quick thinking on your part - but seriously, how did you even - what happened? Are you -” Jack stopped as Mark finally met his eyes.   
  
Mark stared at him just for a moment, his eyes telling Jack so many things that he couldn’t keep up. The Mark looked down at the long rip in his jeans across his thigh. It was on the red pant leg, so the blood matched the fabric.   
  
Jack sighed hollowly.   
  
“Tell me about it later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super bad at writing fighting and junk help


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J you sneaky coot you

Mark’s eyes were glued onto the thing before him.   
  
The iridescent beast was laid on its side so that the slices along its chest were visible. Mark couldn't look away from the dried maroon color that stained the coat.   
  
The room around him, though incredibly familiar, felt uncomfortable. Voices rolled around him discussing the attack, but he felt like he wasn't qualified to be here.   
  
He stared at the animal some more.   
  
Mark’s head jerked up at the sound of his own name being thrown out. His eyes caught Jack’s tired look.   
  
Jack was rolling his shoulder, nursing sore muscles. His clothing choices today were incredibly simple - a loose-fitting, button up white shirt and his trademark pants and boots. It felt odd to see him without all the odds and ends. Mark still wasn't quite paying attention, so he just looked at Jack blankly. Jack sighed.   
  
“Your _story_ , Mark.” He said, gesturing to the animal. “What happened?”  
  
Arin and Danny were there, the three of the, standing around the table. Mark was seated, pressed a towel to his thigh. The dull throb pumped on his hand as he spaced out to the earlier events.   
  
_The sword slid into his hand like it belonged there. His mind was racing, heart beating out of his chest. Two, gleaming black eyes stared him down. Massive paws were digging into his shoulders, a tail sweeping over his legs. Back and forth, back and forth. Slobber dribbled onto Mark’s cheek.  
  
Then the beast opened its mouth and showed off its display of fangs.   
  
Mark’s arm was stuck, not only physically, but also mentally cemented where it was. He had to get at it enough so its strength would wane - slice across this underbelly area… but it's like he just couldn't.   
  
When the things roared; ear-splitting, deafening, terrible roaring, Mark’s body started moving again.   
  
He tucked his feet up and under the thing, pressed his shoes onto its chest, and heaved. His arms got enough wiggle room to slip from under the paws. With the momentum, Mark swung the blade solidly against the side.   
  
It clanged off lit he had simply hit the wall behind him. The metallic sound echoed in his head.   
  
The hit only seemed to annoy it, and the animal lunged, it's mouth inches from Mark’s face. Mark rolled into a plank position. His blade pressed flat into his palm, and as he stood, it was there in his hand.   
  
Suddenly, the two were standing there. Just… standing.   
  
Mark looked at the thing better.   
  
It's face was sort of mashed, with a big, flat nose and cheeks that sagged and hung to either side of its mouth. The more he looked at its face, the more it looked like a hound dog. But a mane of hair, big and full and impressive fanned around its head. Its paws and overall body build was that of a lion, all the way back to its tail, which wagged like a dog.   
  
It's fur was incredible - shining and lustrous, purple and blue and green and pink and together.   
  
Mark was captivated by it - until it lunged at him again, mouth agape.   
  
He smacked its head with the side of his blade, but caught a paw in the chest. He was back on the ground, now, but as the lion stood, he grabbed a fistful of its mane.   
  
At the touch, the thing stuttered and shook and moved oddly trying to get the sensation off. Mark retracted his blade and grabbed more of the hair. It was coarse and knotted, and as the beast wiggled trying to shake him off, Mark’s legs flailed beneath him.   
  
The animal jumped, growling and stomping and catching its back paw on Mark’s thigh. Mark gritting his teeth and inhaled, the fabric tearing on his pants.   
  
He used every ounce of strength he had to right himself and swing his now bleeding leg around one side of the animal. The width of the lion was less than he expected,mans he squeezed his thighs around it.   
  
The animal froze.   
  
Mark’s hands wrapped tightly around his fistfuls of mane. The animals breathed slowly, crouched low to the ground.   
  
And then Mark was off, like a bullet from a gun.   
  
Never had he been on something so fast. He could feel the muscles working beneath him, the legs running and hitting the ground crazily. Everything around him blurred impossibly. They were in the tunnels, he thought, the walls dark and god it was pointless to even try to identify what was going on.   
  
His biceps started to burn from the effort of holding onto the fur, but his thigh hurt more with the added luxury of being sliced open.   
  
Mark leaned down to get out of the direct wind and did something ridiculous and stupid; he let go with one hand and seethed, pressed the hand into the wound to try and stop the bleeding with pressure. The joints in his right hand started to ache.   
  
With the hand he had let go, he also felt around the skin of the beast and to his horror, he found it was incredibly sturdy and solid. The entire thing felt mechanical - but somehow, he knew it couldn't be. There was no way - Mark’s eyes looked at the stained red fur beneath his hand. He and to get under to its real skin. He had to kill this thing, had to -_  
  
“And that's where… you came in.” Mark gestured to Jack, who was intently listening, arms crossed over his chest. His mechanical eyes spun and whirred, the pupil shifting. And then he fired into that section of their adventure.   
  
Halfway through with it, a woman burst through the door.   
  
Mark jumped at the intrusion.   
  
The woman was already midway into a long, loud, exasperated conversation with the other three men in the room. Mark only saw the back of her - she was wearing a purple tank top with a black utility belt around her waist. Except, instead of utilities, different weapons and various ammunition were snatched in each pouch. Her hair was auburn and long, coming down to the middle of her back. But there were pieces in the front that he could see were died vibrantly purple as well.   
  
“Minx, slow _down,_ yeah?” Jack said, making a calming gesture with his hands. “The only person hurt was that idiot behind you.”  
  
Ah. So this was Minx, then.   
  
She rounded on him, and really, her features were…. indescribable. Her eyes were a rich brown, lips puckered in irritation or worry or some other emotion. Her accent was thick and her voice was sort of low with a gravel to it.   
  
As her eyes scanned over Mark, he felt like a bug about to be squashed. Surely he must have done something wrong - it seemed like it was destined for the new guy to get yelled at for something ridiculous. But after a moment, she grabbed his chin roughly.   
  
Her hands were calloused, fingers long and meticulous. She tilted his head up sharply, turning it in every direction.   
  
“Uh-” Mark stuttered. But she let go of him, hands on her hips.   
  
“Do you know what this is?” She gestured to the thing on the table. Mark popped his jaw, ruffled his hair.   
  
“No idea.” He replied.   
  
Minx sighed. “Exactly. Neither do we. And now it's dead, but not after wrecking _that,_ and…” She trailed off, twisted the ends of a chunk of hair in her hands. Jack shook his head.   
  
“Minx, it's fine…” He put a hand on her shoulder and took a small screen from a fold under his shirt. It pinged in his hand.   
  
“J wants you, now, Minx. And take Mark with you, yeah? You good Mark?” He said. Danny looked at him expectantly. Now that he looked, both Danny and Arin each looked exhausted.   
  
“Fine, yeah, of course.” He said, standing.   
  
Tunnels. Tunnels. Debris and empty shells of ammunition. Two pairs of boots on dirt.   
  
Minx wasn't chatty. She seemed rather lost in her own thoughts, and Mark thought it was best not to interrupt her. He also wanted to stay on whatever side it was that kept his throat from being slit - his memories of her name were not friendly.   
  
Then there was that imposing door again. Only this time when he went in, there were already two people sitting on the opposite side of J. Neither of them he had seen.   
  
One was a man. His hair was dusty blonde - well, either it was dusty blonde or it was very blonde but with dust _in it._ He turned when they came in, and his eyes were strikingly blue. A fuzzy beard coated his chin and upper lip. His shirt was loose and dipped at his clavicle. Long scars ran down the sides of his neck, some newer than others. He twisted a small dagger in between his fingers, his legs bouncing lightly.   
  
The other woman had hair that was silver, and Mark expected it would gleam in the light. While the man’s disposition was jittery, but operetta cheerful, her body language was relaxed and almost haughty. Her eyes were surrounded but incredible makeup, framing the teal irises. Her lips were a shade of magenta, set in a smirk. Everything about her radiated importance.   
  
J clapped their hands. “Nice to have you join us, Mark. I thought my advisers could use the presence of someone new that also got a first hand experience today. Meet Felix and Jenna. I'm sure Minx was introduced to you.”  
  
Felix smiled at him. Jenna waved. Minx simply sat down.   
  
Mark had a very unsettling feeling that he didn't belong.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suspense and confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minx NO

Mark’s leg bounced up and down violently.   
  
J was explaining things to him - statistics, probability, things that were probably important but that he couldn’t quite focus on at the moment. His mind was reeling, trying to combat the foreign voice in his head that answered all of his questions.   
  
“-the third one in the past month. We need to talk seriously about what is happening here.” J finished. The last sentence caught Mark’s attention - the third attack, did they mean? In the past month? He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short.   
  
“Yes, Mark?” They answered him, their face questioning. Mark pushed back his apprehension.   
  
“What does all of that mean? All I hear is numbers and numbers, but what is the significance of three in the past month?” he said, trying to make his voice sound not as strained. J arched an eyebrow.   
  
“What it means, Mark, is that we aren’t as secret as we once were. People are becoming aware. People are taking notice. Bandits are taking notice, government agents are taking notice, and we can’t have that.” they explained, their palms splayed on the table.  
  
“But the attack today was different.” Minx spoke up. “There weren’t any people.”  
  
Felix spun around to face her. “No people? I don’t believe you.”  
  
“Believe it, meatball.” she snarked. Felix made a face at her.   
  
“But there was only one of those glitter beasts, right?” Jenna asked. Mark turned to her. She shrugged.   
  
“No one else was naming it.”  
  
Mark nodded acceptingly.   
  
J rapped her knuckles on the wood, getting their attention again. “One animal, and one that we’ve never seen before. That’s it. I’m having our lab run tests on it for its DNA make-up so we can put a species to the body.”  
  
“But it wasn’t some freak animal attack. Someone sent that thing here. Its plating was industrial, bolted to the skin -” Mark’s mouth moved faster than his mind did, explaining the material makeup and ratio of plating to fur on the beast. When he did finally shut up, he hated himself for jabbering. It was like his science brain didn’t have an off switch.   
  
J leaned forward. “I’m glad I got to witness some of your improvements, Mark.” they said. The tone of their voice unnerved Mark a tad, and he broke eye contact, instead looking at Felix.   
  
“Who would send it?” he was asking.   
  
“Someone that has known we were here for a long enough time to develope armor for an incompetent animal. Did they send it just to try and kill a few of us off and maybe break a couple test tubes?” Jenna queried. J shook their head.   
  
“It’s unknown. That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.” they said.   
  
It was quiet.   
  
Mark’s belt buzzed as a message came onto his device. The sound made everyone look down at the source. Mark began to apologize.   
  
“No, no, be my guest.” J waved an arm towards the screen. Mark lifted it, looking at the I.D. He hadn’t the slightest idea of who would need to contact him.  
  
 **Unknown I.D. - Suggested Junk -  
Get out of there. Do not accept any offers. Get out of there.  
  
Junk? (Yes) (No) ~**  
  
Mark’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened, heart rate quickened. He looked back up, suddenly on edge even more than he was before.   
  
“Anything important?” J asked nonchalantly. Mark made eye contact, and though their tone was flat and indistinguishable, their eyes burned with knowledge. Like they knew what the message was. Like they knew that Mark was like an ant under a microscope, his skin heating up, his string of excuses waning.   
  
“It was from Jack. He wanted to invite me, when I was done here, to come to dinner with Bob and Wade. I had gone a while back before the whole… you know, heart thing happened. They want to catch up again.” his mouth moved for him. He didn’t even know what he had said until the words were out of his mouth.   
  
Felix grinned. “Oh, hey, mind if I invite myself? I haven’t seen ol’ Jackaboy in a while.” he drug a hand across his chin in thought. “In fact, I haven’t even been out for a bite in a while.”  
  
Mark nodded, his gut twisting. “Sure! I’ll let him know you’ll meet us there.”  
  
J was still perfectly nonchalant, but Mark would not look them in the eyes again. He was deathly afraid of anything that was to come out of their mouth.  
  
“Well, if we could please set dinner plans aside, we have an incoming crisis. Someone knows about us and has the animal artillery to cause some damage. Some focus would be appreciated.” they said, voice tight. Mark clipped his screen back to his belt loop.   
  
The conversation continued with little to no input from Mark. He thought they were going to be released when J asked one more question.   
  
“Oh, and Mark, I was thinking. I’ve had just three advisors for a while and would truly appreciate if I could recruit you for a fourth.”  
  
 _Don’t accept any offers._  
  
“Oh - really? Me? I’m so inexperienced - wouldn’t someone like Dan or Phil make a better advisor?” he scrambled.   
  
J pretended to think about it. “I would really like to have your thoughts for important discussions and, eventually, more strategy planning. You’re bright, Mark. I could use your mind.”  
  
The words, though directed as a compliment, sent a chill down Mark’s spine.   
  
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep on it and get back to you in the morning.” he flashed a large grin at them. J sighed.   
  
“Alright. You’re free to go.”  
  
All four of them stood and filed out of the room. Jenna and Felix fired into a conversation and started down a different corridor - Mark was about to head to the bar when a hand was at his throat and his back was shoved against the wall.   
  
Minx held him a few inches off the ground in a little alcove away from the office. Her eyes were like fire, burning a hole into his brain. Mark’s hands scrambled for purchase against her fingers, which were deadlocked around his windpipe.   
  
“Who was that message from?” she hissed, pushing his shoulder into the wall with her other hand. Mark wheezed. “I saw it - Mark, who was that from?”  
  
“I don’t - know!” he coughed, tilting his head back and wincing. She twisted into his shoulder a little harder, a silent disagreement.   
  
“I swear - I have no - no idea, no -” he sucked in a breath through his teeth, his jaw aching from grinding them together.   
  
Suddenly, his feet hit the dirt. Mark collapsed to his knees, coughing and heaving for breath. He looked up at Minx - her fingers were furiously swiping over a screen. His screen. His hand went to his belt.   
  
She sighed and tilted her head at him before tossing the screen. Mark scrambled to catch it, the thing bouncing from his palm to his thigh and finally resting in the dirt. Her lips were moving, muttering things under her breath that Mark couldn’t quite hear. Things like “Stupid…” and “Should’ve known…” and “Krism…”  
  
Minx sent him a withering glare. “Take the job. Don’t act out. And keep your damn mouth shut.”  
  
She stalked away.   
  
Mark sat in the dirt, dusting off his screen and pulling up a message for Jack.   
  
**Felix said he’d like to have dinner with you, Bob and Wade - want to meet?** the message whooshed away. He sighed, running his hands through his hair and rubbing his eyes and generally feeling sorry for himself.   
  
How did he get into this mess?  
  
Jack pinged a response. **Sure - see you there in an hour, maybe?**  
  
 **Sound good.** _whoosh_  
  
Mark rubbed the bruises that were already forming on his collar before standing and taking a deep breath. Whatever was happening underneath the facade of this town, he was going to find out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louise you sly dog

The confession lingered on the tip of his tongue.   
  
Mark sat across from Jack and Bob, and next to Wade and Felix. Felix had taken the head of the table and was blabbering on about something or other. Mark was trying to pay attention, really; these guys were nice and funny and fun to be around, but still, the message was a burning question in his head. It made his wiring twist and gave him a headache.   
  
His hand pressed into his abdomen, the dull soreness keeping him aware and out of his own head. He tuned back into the conversation - only to find that there was none. Everyone was staring at him.   
  
“Oh - yeah?” He asked, feigning nonchalance. Jack crossed his arms.   
  
“You don't look that swell. You alright?” He asked.   
  
“The last time we had to ask you if you were alright, you had a heart attack, so you understand if we air on the side of caution.” Bob added. Mark gave a weak smile.   
  
“Yeah, I'm-” what was he? Confused, for one. And a little frightened. Uncertain was a good word. Concerned.   
  
“Fine. I'm fine, really.”  
  
The lie burnt the roof of his mouth.   
  
Jack leaned across the table, resting his elbows on the wood. The liquid in his drink rippled. “You don’t seem sure.” He pressured. Bob gave him a long, sideways glance. Wade took a large bite out of his entree.   
  
“Listen - it’s nothing important. And most of all, nothing that concerns you.” Mark said flippantly, tearing at the napkin on his thigh.   
  
Jack’s hand splayed out, his fingers separating. “Mark, most everything concerns me.” He said. Mark’s gut twisted.   
  
“It’s nothing. I’m overthinking it.” He said, refusing to say anything about the messages and the qualms in his stomach because he didn’t want to effect these people, most of all. They had nothing to be worried about. Their full allegiance was with Heartland, and that was that.   
  
  
A sort of fire burned behind Jack’s one eye when a woman with two men, one on each arm, sidled up to their table. His retina whirred as he looked up at their interruption, his tongue no doubt poised to lash out.   
  
Louise smiled brightly, the gesture filling the entire bar up with some sort of sunshine. Jack’s anger melted away. On either of her arms were Dan and Phil, whose hands were laced not uncomfortably, but loosely around her elbows. They gave half smiles, acknowledgements.   
  
“Hello, boys!” She chirped. Bob and Wade each gave a friendly nod, telling Mark that they were familiar with the woman. Jack blinked, wanting to carry on their conversation. He didn’t seem to care who Louise was, and Mark knew that he was familiar with Dan and Phil. But to them, also, he paid no mind.   
  
“Mark-”  
  
“Mark!” Louise interjected. Mark’s eyes locked onto hers. Her voice sounded overly cheerful. Her fingers gripped the boy’s forearms like vices. Her eyes had a tone of urgency. “Do you mind if we steal you away for a moment? I’m terribly sorry for intruding on your evening.”  
  
“No trouble, Louise.” Wade gave a lopsided grin. Mark stood up, his chair squeaking on the floor.   
  
He did not turn around to look at Jack as he walked away with the trio. He did not give any sort of goodbye, or even an excuse me. He just kept walking. It felt like Jack’s one eye was shooting an actual laser into his back.   
  
Dan had moved behind Louise and trailed Mark as they walked. Louise instead took Mark’s elbow, steering him. The unnerving part was her calm, light banter as they made their way through the bar. His chest wound up tighter and tighter as they walked through the tunnels. It felt like some synthetic part of him was going to malfunction and he was going to collapse into a puddle of goo.   
  
Dan pulled a key from his pocket as they came to the tech hub. A door was situated in the back of the shop - he rounded ahead of them and opened the secret room.   
  
Mark found a bedroom, larger and spacier than his own. It had a tiny kitchen and one queen bed with a bath and a sitting area attached. The decorations in the place were sparse, but colorful. No photographs hung on the walls, but there was one polaroid sitting on the dresser, which Mark thought to be odd. He hadn’t seen a polaroid in… well, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen one. But from where they had entered, he could see two people smiling on the front of it.   
  
“Aesthetic.” Dan said, making Mark jump. He realized he had stopped walking and was staring at the tiny picture, squinting to see it. Dan winked at him.   
  
Louise sat down in one of the two armchairs and motioned for Mark to sit as well. Phil closed the door and Mark watched as his fingers clicked the lock.   
  
He was sure of it now. He was going to malfunction.   
  
“I’m so sorry about all of this - it’s all very weird and discreet and I’m sure you’re thinking we’re crazy people.” Louise began. Mark didn’t argue against it.   
  
“But this is extremely important. We’re going to talk to you about your ‘job offer,’” she made air quotations with her fingers. “And your recently received messages.”  
  
Mark’s gut dropped. But he didn’t ask how they knew. He didn’t ask who they had talked to and how many people knew about it. He asked, “Why is this happening to me?”  
  
“J thinks you’re special.” Dan said. The two of them were leaning against the dresser just a few feet away, arms crossed or in pockets.   
  
“But why? I got here two weeks ago. I’m no one.”  
  
“That’s… not quite true.” Phil said, tone uncertain. Mark put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.   
  
“Please enlighten me.”  
  
“It’s like you have some sort of untapped potential. Are you sure you don’t have any… skills? Childhood activites you were particularly good at? Any kind of aspirations?” Louise asked. Her dress was poofed around her legs on the chair. Mark thought, and his mind calculated any answers he could possibly have from his memory. But only one result.   
  
“I was going to help people. Be a merchant, sell things that people needed. That’s it. My family all died in the war, which only affirmed that I wanted nothing to do with it.”  
  
Louise bit her lip. “Ok, but… what if we told you that your family wasn’t dead?”  
  
Mark didn’t even miss a beat. “I would laugh and tell you that you’re crazy. My father was esteemed - I remember the funeral distinctly.”  
  
“Maybe it’s not your entire family. But your brother and your mother - they’re alive.” Dan said. Mark’s eyes drifted toward him. He was suddenly out of energy.   
  
“Can we please get to the point that has to do with cryptic messages and some weird boss wanting something to do with me? My family is dead. End of story.” Mark said. Louise frowned.   
  
“We’ll come back to that bit, then. What you have to understand, Mark, is that this town is full of rocky trust and mystery and people that don’t give out their identity. Cry, for example. No one’s even seen his face.” She said.   
  
“So what? I don’t care about that. I care about what is going to happen to me. What do they want with me?” Mark said earnestly. Phil put his hands behind him on the dresser.   
  
“We don’t know. That’s what we wanted to figure out. But clearly, someone else already beat us to that, because now they’re sending you messages.” He said. Mark rubbed his eyes.   
  
“Could you please just explain this _normally_? I don’t think I have the patience to decode whatever is going on unless you tell it to me straight, ok?” He said.   
  
“J needs you for something. They want you high ranked and they want you safe. And they want you ignorant. Whatever J is planning, they shared it with Minx, because the moment she saw those messages, she tried to convince you rather harshly to just keep abiding J’s wishes. I’m not saying that what J wants is bad, but I’m saying someone out there is against it. They think that you playing into what they want is going to end up badly. They want you to skip town.” Louise sighed. “Many have before because they didn’t trust us. Didn’t trust J. They all just end up being killed in the war trying to stop it themselves. Because like it or not, that is the goal here. Put an end to this war. It’s either going to be done J’s way, or mystery-man’s way.”  
  
Mark sat in silence for a moment.   
  
“So what you’re saying is, I’m incredibly valuable?”  
  
“To multiple people, apparently.” Louise affirmed.   
  
“But _why_?”  
  
“We. Don’t. Know, Mark.” Dan said. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “It’s not exactly easy to figure out, is it?”  
  
“Why does J have to be so secret with their plans? Wouldn’t it be easier to gain the trust of the town by being open with what’s going on?” Mark asked.   
  
“That’s the thing. They’re playing off of ignorance and fear and blind trust and a common goal. As long as they are adamant about stopping the war, these people don’t care how it’s done.” Louise replied.   
  
Silence.   
  
“Why did you bring me here to talk, then? Other than to inform me that apparently I’m highly sought after.” Mark continued.   
  
“We want to warn you.” Phil said. Mark turned to him, but as he moved his head, Louise got up from her chair.   
  
Before he could turn back around, there was the sharp sound of glass shattering, and then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well SHIT man what if they broke like a good vase huh what if that cost a lot of money did you ever think about that


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> artists and pain

When Mark woke up, he was not happy.  
  
His hands instantly jumped to life, lifting his arms up with them, but a dull pain thrummed through his veins and he winced.   
  
With the movement of his face came the uncomfortable, dry, sticky sensation not unlike the one on his thigh. Dried blood, just a little of it down one side of his face.   
  
Next, he tried moving his legs, but another dull pain ripped through him, so that effort was short lived and futile.   
  
Finally, he focused his eye sight.   
  
Before his own, coherent, opinionated thoughts could run through his head, his computer programmed ones did. Diagnostics flooded his head - low loss of blood, loss of consciousness, things that were apparent and easy for him to figure our even without his new brain. But specific levels of vitamins and lacks of calcium and low blood sugar and things he didn't even know existed came at him at full force. He put one hand to his head as a headache started to pound in his ears.   
  
Mark set his eyes to do a simple task - look around. Where are you? What happened? Are you in danger?  
  
Mark found that he was on a bed, propped up on some pillows. Immediately, he saw no one in the room. Rather, he saw a dresser and a screen or two, along with a chair and...  
  
A Polaroid picture. The memory, simple and irrelevant, came back in full color with audio and internal commentary included. The headache that threatened started to get worse - Mark crunched his eyes together and winced. The memory was so unbelievably vivid, it was making his whole body start to hurt.  
  
But again, he trained his eyes over the room. He scanned for people - he was in Dan and Phil’s apartment. He was laid out on the bed. He was alone - as far as he could tell.   
  
Mark tried to think about what had happened, up to the point where it all went black, but when he thought about those memories, the area behind his eyes was alight with a fiery sensation. Again, it was so vivid that Mark had to press the palms of his hands onto his lids. He drew his lips into a thin line and breathed steadily.   
  
With the pressure applied to his eyes, his arm began to ache again. When he thought he wouldn’t be affronted by strange imaginative assaults, he opened his eyes and stared at the crook of his arm.   
  
There was a little, red bandage wrapped tightly around his inner elbow, applying light pressure. He tried to find the end of it, his fingers shaking. He told himself to calm down. Calm down. Calm -  
  
 _”Calm down, Mark!” She said, her laughter light and tinkling. She reached out and took his arm and spun him, pulling him close to her. His giggling echoed off the walls._  
  
Mark groaned and fell to the side, supporting his weight with one arm and grabbing his temple with the other. It was sepia and playing like a movie, rolling in his vision. His head told him that his adrenaline was not healthy. His brain told him that he was experiencing high levels of shock.   
  
Everything hurt, everything hurt, and Mark begged himself not to think. Just don't think. Don't think. For the love of God, don't think.   
  
He held perfectly still. He put his hands onto the mattress. He swung his legs over the sides. Normal. Normal. Don't think.   
  
He stood up. His vision went hazy as the blood rushed from his head. He grabbed the bed frame. Don't think.   
  
He took a few steps. He grabbed the dresser. His hand slipped over the Polaroid. Don't think, don't think, don't -  
  
But the memory was already coming back to him and the sensation of watching something out of body returned. Mark only braced himself and accepted it, gritting his teeth. Expecting the vivid pain, it hurt less.   
  
There was a brightly colored note next to the picture. It was written in curly, cursive writing. Mark picked it up shakily.   
  
_“Mark - so sorry that you passed out, and so sorry that we had to leave you here! You were laid out on the bed. We went down to grab a bite, and should be back shortly. Until then, rest on the bed! Dan and Phil have told me that their home is your home. Rest! ~Louise”_  
  
Mark narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He fought against the film in his head, the bar with its clinking glasses and him and Louise sitting at the bar stools, the bartenders and their bad puns, everything, everything -  
  
Don't think.   
  
Mark looked at the bed.   
  
There was a divot where he had been, and the comforter was wrinkled and bunched. Three pillows were stacked up that he had been propped against. Mark’s feet took him back there, his hands pressing into the pillows.   
  
He jerked and threw the top pillow to the floor.   
  
Again, he pressed his hand along the pillow.   
  
_Thud._ It hit the floor.   
  
His hands roamed over the last pillow, and along the underside was a stiff piece of paper tucked inside of the pillowcase. He dug it out.  
  
Mark only realized now that his body had been on autopilot, his wires working for him. He balled his hands and shook his head and grappled for the note.   
  
_Mark,  
  
Our safety precautions were feeble and we can only hope that the eyes reading this are your own. You have been administered a shot of a drug in progress. There is no way for us to know if it has worked on your or not - it worked on the three of us. You should be experiencing incredibly vivid memory jogs and faint grasps at people you don't recognize. Mark, you arrived at Heartland long before you remember you did. As the drug takes effect over the course of the next few days, you should remember more and more. You were “wiped” of all memories but the ones manufactured in your head. Your family is alive. You are alive. You are going to save us.   
  
Don't worry where we are. Don't worry about those that will now act suspicious around you. If anyone but you has found this note, they will know that we have told you. They will know that we have run. Stay safe. Be smart. Find the artist.   
  
~~~_  
  
Mark was silent.   
  
The room echoed around him. His quiet plea, don't think, don't think, subsided. He breathed. He breathed. He could feel his pulse through the tight bandage. Calmly, he unwrapped the gauze. A red pinprick and a light bruise were hidden in the crook of his elbow.   
  
Fine the artist.   
  
Why was he so important? What did they want with him?  
  
Find the artist.   
  
Louise is gone. Dan and Phil are gone. They restored make believe memories and he is going crazy.   
  
Find the artist.   
  
His legs are moving again. His shoe crushes a piece of glass underfoot. His finger absentmindedly picks at the dried blood on his face.   
  
Find the artist.   
  
His hand curls  around the Polaroid. It crumples in his grasp and his shoves the photo into his pocket. Dan and Phil are smiling. Their suits are clean aside from the dust billowing behind them.   
  
He unlatches the door and shuts it behind him. He leaves the dark tech hub. He walks down the dim tunnels.   
  
_Find the artist._  
  
Who is the artist? Mark has no clue. There is no one else in the tunnels. He is heading somewhere. His stomach growls.   
  
Find Jack. Find Bob and Wade. Find someone to confide to.   
  
Mark whips around the corner. The memories are constant, now, and the headache is pounding. There are so many people that he doesn't recognize. So many people he doesn't know. There is laughter. There are tall trees and rushing water.   
  
He has to push it all back. Push it all out of his mind. He keeps walking, and walking. What time is it? Nighttime. He knows without having to assume. He crosses in front of the huge doors that guard J and he flinches, his heart is pounding, but no one comes for him. He keeps going. He keeps walking.   
  
In front of them, there is someone. There is a hatch pulled open and two feet, dangling, swinging through the hatch. They are wearing jeans. Moonlight is streaming through the open square. There is purple paint on the cuff of his left leg.   
  
Mark finally reaches him. He looks up. The man has a notebook in his lap and is staring at the stars.   
  
Mark clears his throat.   
  
He jumps and almost drops his pen, but looks down at Mark with a perplexed expression. Mark’s chest heaves. He pushed everything away, everything but the effort it will take for him to speak.   
  
“Hi. I'm looking for an artist.”  
  
The man pulls his legs out of the hole and offers his hand instead.   
  
“You've found one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still listening to Les Miserables and Anne seriously calm down


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dan and phil perspectives yayyyyyyy

He had sand in his hair and in his shirt and grit between his teeth. He had heard all of the stories, of course. He had known the warnings. You could get into Heartland easily enough, perhaps with a bit of dehydration and a stomach ache, but it was almost impossible to get out of. People would disappear in the rolling sand and dirt. With no adequate provisions, they would wither away and never be seen again. And anyway, why would you ever want to leave Heartland? The thought was so alarming and so preposterous that most people would scoff if you ev mentioned it and move on to another topic.   
  
The cliche stories of “easy in, hard out” didn't frighten him in the slightest. To him, he would either get out of the desert and make it into some town where he could get fed,get a drink, and set out for the front, or die trying.   
  
Dan pulled the cloth tighter around his face. He wished that they could have told someone, asked Jack perhaps for some of his classic bandages. Those would have been helpful against the heat, as well. Dan swallowed dryly, tempted to reach back and grab some of the water from their stash, but he resisted. They had only been walking for half of a night and that morning. They had to ration. They had to survive. They had to get away.   
  
Through his glove, he twisted the ring around his finger. Behind him, he could hear Phil panting. They weren't made for this kind of exertion - they weren’t made to escape. They weren't made to be daring.   
  
Ahead of him, he watched Louise and Matt. Their pace was slow and labored. Matt’s hand trailed on her lower back, guiding her. Keeping her moving forward.   
  
The town was so far behind them that Dan had stopped looking back. He didn't want to look back in the first place, but so much had happened there. The ring was causing a circle of sweat to soak into his glove.  
  
His mind wandered to Mark, like it had hundreds of times already. Each thought was a reminder that their escape would mean nothing unless Mark could actually pull this off. His heart pounded in his chest. Their clueless revolutionary.   
  
Matt held out a hand behind him, palm up as they came to a slow stop. At the signal, Dan did the same, signaling to Phil as well. Palm up - stay silent. Dan eyes scanned the horizon.   
  
Out in the distance, what looked like three forms were standing and sitting in the dust. They didn’t look to be heading in any sort of direction, and it was too far away to tell if they were visibly armed. They all knew that anyone they came across would be heavily guarded, so the fact of being visibly armed really didn’t change their course of action. Dan made eye contact with Phil. Out of instinct, his hand grasped for the necklace underneath his light shirt. Matt rolled his left ankle, feeling for the dagger that he had put in the strap of his boot. Louise lightly patted her bosom, also making sure she was armed.   
  
“We can’t very well get around them now. They’ve probably already seen us.” Louise whispered, her voice raspy and low.   
  
“If they’ve seen us, that means they want about as much to do with us as we do with them. But my guess is they have no idea we’re here yet. Bandits, probably, and the moment they catch sight of us four, they’ll be all over us.” Matt replied.   
  
“We can try and snake around, avoid them completely.” Phil suggested. But Matt shook his head.   
  
“There’s no cover. Nowhere for us to go. We would have to backtrack, then make an incredibly wide loop around them.” He took a long, heavy sigh. He didn’t even have to say anything more - there was only one other option.   
  
Dan took the necklace out from under his shirt. It glinted in the sun.   
  
They kept walking. Closer, and closer, and closer the drew to the trio. And yet still no one moved towards them. There were two people on the ground and one leaning on a walking stick. None of them were facing their direction.   
  
Phil raised a cautious eyebrow. They kept walking. They gave themselves a wide enough berth that they wouldn’t be walking right between the trio, but it wasn’t enough space to be comfortable. Dan almost held his breath as they got about even with the group. They would have to see them now.   
  
A pungent smell hit him, sliding into the back of his skull. He tensed and stopped in his tracks. Metallic and stinging and -   
  
Dan squinted at the two on the ground.   
  
“I was hoping the four of you would put up a bit better attempt than this.” The voice was low and had a twangy accent than Dan wasn’t familiar with. His hand slowly moved back and found Phil’s forearm.   
  
“I was hoping at least somebody would recognize these poor saps…” the man leaning on the stick shrugged at the bodies. Dark red blood soaked through their clothing. He gave a chuckle. “This one all but noticed far too late.”  
  
Dan met his eyes. They were brown. He did not have any pupils.   
  
The man lifted the walking stick. At least a foot of it has been buried in the ground, the end sharpened to a deadly point. It was stained red.   
  
“Now let’s see what these Heartland folk have to offer, yeah?”  
  
Dan had never seen someone move so fast. The bandit was on Matt in the blink of an eye, taking no time in fighting but giving precision in killing. Dan let go of Phil’s forearm and before he could shove his spear straight through Matt, Dan’s weapon was out and he was going in across the bandit’s back with his knife. He ripped through barely an inch of shirt fabric before he was shoved recklessly out of the way. Dan rolled, and a flash of the spear appeared in his vision before it was once again gone. Louise now had his attention.   
  
Dan spun up, standing easily and going back again, the gold chain around his neck swaying. He cocked the barrel of his gun and aimed for his torso at the side angle, but just before he hit the trigger, the bandit made an extravagant movement with his unoccupied right arm.   
  
From under his sleeve, three throwing knives flew out, spaced about three inches apart. Dan didn’t have the spare time to marvel at the engineering - rather, he slid and avoided two of the knives. His finger squeezed the trigger as the third knife skidding his shoulder.   
  
The bullet lodged into his calf, which wasn’t great, but it was something. Louise hit him over the head as Matt took aim to shove his own dagger through his stomach. But again, the bandit dodged. Knives came out of the left sleeve now as he tossed his spear into the other hand carelessly. These knives kept Matt and Louise busy dodging just long enough for the bandit to slip away for the last target.   
  
Dan’s mind went into hyperdrive.   
  
\--  
  
 _”Dan, I’m not bringing it, and that’s final.” Phil said. He took a long swig of water. Dan stared at him, dumbfounded.  
  
“Phil, we’re literally trying to survive in the wilderness for god knows how long and you aren’t going to bring your weapon?” He practically shouted. Mark stirred on the bed.   
“Dan, I don’t even know how to use it. It’s extra weight and if we ever did get into a fight, it would do me more harm than good. I would end up dropping it onto my own foot. And you know that.” He argued. Phil slid the sword under the bed.   
  
“Phil, please, for me, just take it. Take something. Anything. A handgun or a dagger or -”  
  
“No, Dan.” he crossed their bedroom and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You can’t make me change my mind.  
  
“If you aren’t bringing your weapon, you can’t bring the polaroid, then.” Dan said firmly. Phil backed up, meeting Dan’s eyes.   
  
“Dan, that’s a keepsake, that’s our wedding photo -”  
  
Dan’s heart started to shatter, but he held firm. “If you bring a weapon, you can bring the polaroid.”  
  
Phil stared at him for a long while. Then he slowly crossed the room and put his hand in his pocket. He brought out a tiny rectangle and placed it on the dresser, exactly where it normally sat.   
  
Phil took another long look at Mark, sleeping soundly on his propped up pillows, before moving Dan aside and stepping out the door. “Come then. We have to meet Louise.”  
  
Dan followed quietly._  
  
\--  
  
“Phil!” He screamed as the bandit came lunging at him with the long, wooden spear. Phil ducked and grabbed his ankle, pulling him down to the dust. He rolled away as the bandit tried to pin him underneath, but Dan knew that the athletics wouldn’t last much longer. He pushed himself up, the pain in his shoulder numb with adrenaline.   
  
He cocked and shot again, hitting him in the shoulder. The bandit stumbled, and Phil got behind him. He gave a hearty kick in the back and again, he was in the dirt. Louise frantically stumbled and grabbed Phil around the waist, screaming about his stupidity and his nerve as Dan dove with his dagger. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matt diving, too.   
  
The Bandit kicked Matt away. He held out his spear for Dan.   
  
Dan couldn’t change his trajectory.  
  
There was a horrendous choking pain around his neck for a moment as he was yanked so harshly to the side that he thought his neck would snap. The chain left him, his weapon pulled from his hand and -   
  
_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six._  
  
Six gunshots rang in his ears.   
  
It was silent.   
  
Dan sat up, his hand feeling his neck as his eyes eagerly scanned around him. Where was Phil? Was Phil hurt?  
  
Phil was not hurt.   
  
Phil was standing, arms poised, pointing Dan’s gun at the chest of the bandit. His breathing was ragged, labored. His arms were shaking. His eyes were blown wide and terrified. He was staring.   
  
Staring at the six wounds soaking the bandit’s shirt with blood.   
  
Staring at the six bullets, the last six bullets that Dan had, that were now lodged into their enemy.   
  
Just staring.   
  
The long, gold chain hung sadly from the weapon, looking awkward when not around someone’s neck.   
  
Dan shot to his feet and pried the weapon from Phil’s hands. His shaking hands. Tears streaked his face, but he was silent. Dan threw the weapon on the ground and wrapped his arms tightly around Phil’s torso. Phil’s arms were limp and weak in hugging him back.   
  
“It’s alright. It’s alright. You did the right thing. You did the right thing.” Dan whispered, afraid anything louder than such would shatter Phil into a million pieces.   
  
Dan looked over Phil’s shoulder at the blowing dust. And he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DANGGGGG


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more characters and lots of science mumbo jumbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's late and I haven't read through this and it probably doesn't make sense don'thateme

“Where are you from?”  
  
The question sent another wave of dulled pain through Mark’s head, but somehow, he was numb to it. Numb to the fake names and made up stories that his brain was creating. Perhaps his wiring was fried, coupled with the mysterious drugs that had been injected into him.   
  
The man sat across from Mark at a table in the bar, sort of pressed back into a corner. He had his hands folded on the table, and was giving Mark a peculiar look.   
  
“An - an island, maybe?” He replied, grimacing. “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”  
  
The man blinked. His eyes were so icy clear, Mark couldn’t look at them for long. Despite their cold nature, however, they weren’t unforgiving. Curious, more like.   
  
“What about your drink of choice?” He asked, another question that was random and irrelevant. Mark shrugged.   
  
“I can’t drink. Doctor’s orders.”  
  
The answer seemed to satisfy the man, but he opened his mouth again.   
  
“One more thing. What’s Louise Watson’s favorite color?” He arched an eyebrow. Mark sat back in his chair.   
  
“Why on earth is that even relevant at all?”  
  
“Oh, it isn't. I just want to know is all.” He gave him a large smile. Mark stared at him.   
  
“Well? Do you know?”  
  
“Yellow. Her favorite color is yellow.” He said after another moment’s pause.   
  
At the answer, the man stood up and motioned for Mark to stand as well. “Thank you, I’ve been meaning to buy a birthday gift for her. In fact, I have a few things picked out if you would be so kind as to stop by and take a look at them?”  
  
Mark opened his mouth to question _what the hell was going on_ , but he met the man’s gaze and snapped it shut again. He had to be friends with Dan and Phil and Louise. This was the artist he was told to find; he must know something about whatever those three had done to him.  
  
Regrettably, his curiousity got the better of him.   
  
They wound through the tunnels, and the man’s unnerving conversation that was so normal and calm made Mark’s eye twitch. His ability to so easily answer every mundane question also made his heart jump. It was like he was more aware. More knowledgeable. He hated it. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his hand along the pin prick on his arm.   
  
They walked through the same lobby as Mark had previously gone through, and he counted the doors to his. However, they never made it to his room. The man stopped prematurely. His key clicked.   
  
Mark swallowed a bad feeling as the door shut behind them.   
  
However, as soon as the door shut, a different disposition came over the man. He twisted on the ball of his foot and smiled, sticking out a hand theatrically for Mark to shake. The other hand bent behind his back as he bowed slightly forward. His eyes crinkled, the irises still just as vibrant, but kind as well.    
  
“The name’s PJ,” he said. “Pj Liguori. People often assume me to be kicked.” He gave a little laugh that was really nothing more than a short exhalation of air. Mark shook his hand, still cautious, but against his better judgement (which, honestly, he had given up entirely upon since he entered this town) he relaxed a bit.   
  
“I was good friends with Dan and Phil. Louise as well. I’m sure you’ve gathered by now that I have some inkling of what’s going on around here.” PJ started to walk backwards while speaking, and as he finished, he spun on his heel and walked further into his room. Mark now took a moment to admire it.   
  
It was decorated in a style that Mark could only call unique. Things were plastered all over the walls, some falling down, some taped haphazardly over other things. Little strings of lights were hung where the walls met the ceiling, giving off a sort of warm glow into the otherwise cold room. Every color imaginable was somewhere in the room - there was a desk in the corner overflowing with all sorts of odds and ends. However, there was one corner of the desk that was spotless, and only one item took up the space; a videocamera.   
  
Mark’s eyes moved back to PJ as he began talking again. At the same time, he was opening a dresser drawer and pulling out a folder.   
  
“I’m usually not quite as chatty of a guy as I have been, but that’s merely because I’ve been trying to keep your attention off of your side effects. Side effects, as I’m referring to, having to do with the drug administered to you by Louise and her counterparts.” He tossed the folder on the bed and closed the drawer. “The more you think about yourself or simply get lost daydreaming, the more pain will come to you as your memories are trying to make their way back to the surface of your medial temporal lobe.” He paused. “The part of the brain that holds memories.”  
  
Mark held up his hand, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. “Woah, ok, seriously, I need you to slow way down, dude. This is not the time to talk at a million miles per hour and expect me to keep up.” He said. When he opened his eyes back up, he was met with an apologetic face.   
  
“Sorry. Where do you want me to start?” PJ asked. He pulled out a chair from the corner and offered it to Mark. Mark sat and heaved a sigh.   
  
“Why should I trust you, first of all? Why should I trust that Louise hasn’t poisoned me instead of,” he made air quotes with his fingers. “Restoring my memory? Why am I so special, all of a sudden?”  
  
PJ sat down on the edge of his bed. The comforter creased beneath him. As part of a nervous habit, perhaps, he started twisting the collar of his shirt between his fingers. “I don’t have a good answer as to why you should trust me, honestly. But I could give you scientific proof that your memories are returning to you. And if you believe that what Dan and Phil and Louise did for you was the right thing, and they told you to find me, then hopefully I can gain your trust as well.”  
  
They stared at each other for a silent moment.   
  
“Fair enough. Start with… start with why my memories were ‘taken away.’” Mark said, the air quotes reappearing. PJ readjusted his sitting position and took a deep breath.   
  
“Alright. Ok. So it’s a general feeling that you are important. We have gathered this much. Now present company may not believe this yet, and therefore we’ll come back to it. Your memories have nothing to do with whether you’re considered special or not. The wiping and implantation of fake memories is a standard procedure in Heartland, led out by our pseudo government.”  
  
“Ok, sure, why not. I’ll go with it. How did you find this out? And how did you come up with the drug? Also, why are they wiping memories in the first place?” The questions came tumbling out of Mark at a high speed. PJ raised his eyebrows and smirked a bit.   
  
“We found it out on accident. Louise worked in alchemy… kind of. She enjoyed making different combinations of roots and leaves and flowers, sometimes for science, and sometimes so she could wear the colors as a lipstick. Long story short, she came in contact with a plant that she wasn’t aware of. After running tests on it, Salvia divinorum, as it was named, had serious effects of memory and psychiatric disposition. Many events happened in between, including a certain taste test on an old friends of ours, Chris. Things happened. Things were realized. Theories were made and… proven to be true.”  
  
“How.”  
  
“Felix. I think you met him, once.”  
  
The name struck a chord in him - actually, it struck many chords, but most of the visions he saw he did not recognize. He picked out the one of the blonde man in the room with Minx and J and the other woman, Jenna.   
  
“He’s an adviser to J.”  
  
“He was.”  
  
“...Still is, isn’t he?”  
  
“Not quite. Felix is a good friend of mine. I shared with him our findings - rather dangerously, I might admit, but he confirmed our suspicions. New recruits to the town are handpicked from around the globe. J brings them here, wipes their memory, gets them acquainted with the town, and then gives them just a few new memories to satisfy the loss.”  
  
“But _how._ ”  
  
“Henbane, or Hyoscyamus niger. Toxic. Gives an incredible amount of free will, coupled with some other specific herbs as well as technology.”  
  
“Why.”  
  
“J isn’t lying when they say they want to stop the war. But they have plans, and they want very specific people they know can execute the job. And, if they can make them think whatever and give them a backstory so they won’t run away or desert the cause - even better.”  
  
Mark thought about this for a moment, chewing on his lip. “Why didn’t Louise just tell me this? Why the secrecy? Why the knocking out, the drugging secretly?”  
  
PJ smiled. “Do you honestly think you would have believed a word they had said had you not already been drugged?” He asked.   
  
Mark was silent.   
  
“So what about me being special, huh? What is it with me that has everyone in a big fluff?” Mark pressed. He leaned forward in the chair and put his elbows on his knees. PJ ran a hand through his curls.   
  
“You have unimaginable potential. J wants it for their brainwashed army to stop the war. The very, very few people that are self aware want you for their revolution.”  
  
Mark put his head in his hands. “No, no not a revolution, I knew you were going to say that…” he moaned into his fingers. “No. This isn’t real. This town is full of crazy people and I’m heavily drugged with magical roots and I need a nap and a sandwich.”  
  
“It’s Salvia divinorum, not magic. And we’ll get you a sandwich after I give you some very important information and instructions.” PJ’s voice was gentle, but stern. Mark looked back up at him.   
  
“Louise, Matt, Dan and Phil are gone. They ran, and they’re going to find another town if they don’t die in the process. The only other people that know about this whole ordeal are me, Felix, Chris, and Marzia. Other people may know something is up, or they don’t fully trust J and their plans, but they don’t know anything to the extent that we do. I’m not running, but we shouldn’t talk much more. Attention is already directed at me now that people have started to realize that Louise and the gang have up and left. Whatever you do, do not tell anyone and do not act like you know anything new.”  
  
PJ let this bound of information settle. Then he kept on.   
  
“Over the next two days, your memories should fully return. You will be in pain, but it’s merely the toxins fighting the return of the neurons that they tried to push away. Try not to think about things in the past too much, and you should be fine. Only seek me out if there is a serious problem. You can talk to Felix as well, but be careful where you do it. People are always listening.” He raised a sneaky eyebrow.   
  
Mark swallowed dryly.   
  
“You’re trained remarkably in fighting styles and techniques. You will remember soon the training you had and will then be able to fight marvelously. It will come in handy - for what, I don’t know yet. But when you are called to train, act like you know less than you do. It will lower suspicion. And lastly -” PJ grabbed the folder off the bed.   
  
“You’re the most important person in the town. When you get to your room, read through this folder. It goes over everything I told you in more detail. Stay low.”  
  
He paused again, and then grinned. “And try not to die, Mark.”  
  
Mark gave a weak smile back, his heart thundering.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO

The door to the bedroom slammed, making the walls shake. She jumped, her book falling out of her hand. Somehow, she knew. She knew that Minx had found out. So instead of being scared, she straightened her shoulders, picked her book back up, and met her eyes when she entered the room.   
  
Minx’s eyes were alight with fire. Krism swallowed slowly.   
  
“Hey, Minxy.” she said, carefully watching her body language. She had to know. She had to know.   
  
“Give it to me.”  
  
 _Play dumb, or tell the truth? Play dumb, or stand your ground?_  
  
She knows.   
  
  
“No.”  
  
Minx leapt forward, taking Krism’s shoulders in her hands and getting their faces close together.   
  
“Krism, give it to me.”  
  
“I’m not going to.”  
  
Minx made a very displeased noise and let go of her, not without a little shove, before starting to rummage through their little home. Drawers were pulled open, pillows were shaken out, anything Minx could think of.   
  
The tension was so palpable that it sent a shiver down Krism’s spine. She watched Minx’s every move.   
  
“You know exactly why I can’t give it to you, Michelle.” she said, her temper starting to rise. She shoved it back down to the base of her spine, where it tingled, waiting to be unleashed.   
  
“I’ve been looking for the idiots that have been whispering about rebellions for months now, and it’s been you? Hiding out, pretending to help me? Krism, I can’t believe you right now -”  
  
“We aren’t starting a rebellion! That’s not what this is!” she stood up abruptly. Minx stopped to watch her, the fury in her gaze stronger than ever.   
  
“Really Krism? Than what is it?”  
  
“It’s the right thing to do!” she shouted. “The government is insane for trying to take our memories, Michelle, they’re insane! We’re brainwashed! We’re all lunatics preparing to be used like brain dead soldiers!”  
  
“Shut up!” Minx screamed. “Just, shut up! You’re crazy! You’re crazy! You’ve gone insane. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She pressed her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Krism rocketed to stand in front of her, taking her face in her hands.   
  
“Michelle, please -”  
  
“No, no, not you. Anyone but you to go crazy. Please, not you.” she whispered. Krism pried her hands from her ears.   
  
“Please, let me explain -”  
  
“I don’t need you to explain!” she screamed again. “I know what it is! Some freak show told you that our government was corrupt and you lot believed them! How many of you are there? How many people have been drugged to think that they’re doing the right thing?”  
  
“Michelle, your memories are _gone,_ They’ve been replaced with fake ones. We aren’t crazy, we aren’t! How am I supposed to make you believe that?”  
  
“You can’t make me believe it! It is complete and utter shit, Krism, it’s bullshit and whatever those people have drugged you with has made you… made you -” Minx had tears running down her face.   
  
“Give me the drug. I know you have some. I know that you want to give it to Mark. I know that you want him on whatever side you’re on. I know that you sent him a message. Please. Just give it to me. Let me get you a doctor, we can fix this…”  
  
“Michelle, I’m not meant to be _fixed._ ” Krism shouted, shoving Minx’s hands from her shoulders. “We’re all going to be killed. All of us. Mark can lead us. Mark can save us. He can save this planet.”  
  
“He’s an idiot. I don’t know what J wants with him. I don’t know what your stupid brigade wants with him. He’s nothing more than some man who wandered in from God knows where.”  
  
  
The silence that hung in the room was horrifying.   
  
“I’m leaving.” Krism cut in a terse tone.   
  
“Krism, you can’t -”  
  
“You aren’t going to hear me out. You aren’t going to believe me. You’re too stubborn to trust what your own _wife_ is saying. So I’m leaving.”  
  
“Krism -”  
  
“Obviously J doesn’t trust you as much as you think they do. Otherwise she would have told you that Mark got here months ago. They would have told you that he’s been trained and molded into an incredible man. You would know that we were married on a beach in Cancun.” A tear ran down her cheek. “But you know none of that. You know war and fighting. You know not to trust anyone.” she sniffed. “Even your own wife.”  
  
Krism disappeared around the corner. The door opened, then closed. Softly. So soft that Minx hardly heard it.   
  
Only a second passed before Minx had opened the door. “Krism, please, I -”  
  
She froze.   
  
At the end of the hallway, Krism stood, frozen to the spot. She was facing three guards, all pointing guns directly at her head.   
  
The door next to their own was open. A neighbor was staring stoically at Krism.   
  
“Krism, you are under arrest for disobeying the higher order and spreading fallacies among your townspeople. Please come forward.”  
  
Minx watched as they latched mechanical bonds around her wrists. She watched as they marched away. She watched as Krism never turned back. She watched the neighbor nod, before glaring at Minx and slamming their door.   
  
She stumbled backwards into the doorframe.   
  
People weren’t arrested in Heartland.   
  
They were killed.   
  
And she was the executioner.   
  
_No._ She wasn’t. She would refuse. She would plead for Krism, plead on her behalf. She would -  
  
There was a sharp pin prick on her right arm, and everything went black.   
  
\---  
  
Minx awoke in her bed. What strange dreams she had had - dreams that were hazy and foggy and meant nothing. Her clock told her that the sun would be up.   
  
She made the bed and got ready, grabbing her port from the dresser on the way out. As she walked, she straightened the picture on the wall. In it, there were two women - a girl that she couldn’t quite place, and Minx herself. They were smiling happily. There was no inscription, and for the entire time she had been living here, Minx had simply assumed that it was a family member that had long since passed away. In fact, the picture was so faded that she couldn’t even make out her face quite right.   
  
The tunnels were bustling with people milling about, doing whatever they happened to be needed for. She passed by all of them quietly, not greeting anyone but Felix.   
  
“Morning, Felix!” she chirped. Felix looked up at her, his eyes glazed with shock.   
  
“Minx! You’re… awfully happy this morning.” Suspicion laced his tone. Minx frowned.   
  
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t be?”  
  
Felix swallowed and stared at her for a moment. “No, not really. Have a good one, Minxy.”  
  
She arrived at the office just as her belt lit up. A message, telling her to report immediately to her post. That meant only one thing -  an execution today.   
  
As she walked, she wondered what it was for. She also wondered if she knew the poor sap she would be killing, and hoped that she didn’t. That did tend to make it a little harder. Because of this, she hoped that it was some desert scum that had wandered in in hopes of stealing something from them. Those were always good fun.   
  
She picked up her favorite knife and stepped inside.   
  
A woman was knelt, her hands tied, her brown hair falling in front of her face. J was standing there. She said nothing, merely waited. Minx twirled the knife in her hand.   
  
Just as she prepared to swing, the woman looked up, and her eyes were horrified. They were two different colors - one red, one brown. Each as mixed with pain and confusion and Minx almost halted. But everyone made the same expression. Everyone that was guilty always looked so pitiful in the end.   
  
She steeled her gaze, flexed her wrist, and swung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONT HATE ME


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I died for a little but now I'm back hello children

Never had Mark ever felt so dastardly, or so dangerous. He walked through the tunnels like nothing was wrong, but oh God, everything was wrong, everything was up on its head.   
  
The folder in his hand was clasped so close to his side that he almost forgot he was carrying it. Apparently, this was precious cargo. He walked silently, trying to get to his room as fast as possible.   
  
No one tried to stop him. He didn’t know whether he was to be relieved or suspicious.   
  
When he nodded at the… the receptionist? Is that the right term? The woman behind the desk, anyway, he turned down to make the final stretch to his room, but as soon as he looked down the hallway, he froze.   
  
Two people in uniform were carrying a woman by her elbows down the corridor. The woman’s head hung low, resigned. Metal bonds encircled her wrists.   
  
Mark’s hand started to crumple the thin folder in his grasp, his heart pounding from his chest. The spike of adrenaline gave a sharp stab to his head.   
  
He clasped the information even closer and watched the trio pass - the woman looked up stoically.   
  
Her eyes widened - they seemed to double or triple in size upon meeting Mark’s gaze. One eye was chocolatey brown, the other a vibrant red. Her hair hung loose around her cheeks. Mark stood glued to the spot.   
  
They started to get too far away from him, but she writhed in the grasp of the guards. Her head bent back at an awkward angle to keep contact with him. Mark took a hesitant step forward, but she violently shook her head.   
  
“Minx! Tell -”  
  
The man on her right put a hand over her mouth as they turned the corner. Mark watched the fight go out of her body, but still, she watched him.   
  
His head whipped around as soon as he registered what she had said. _Minx! Tell-_  
  
That meant Minx was around. It meant -   
  
At the end of the hallway, a door shut.   
  
Mark looked down at the folder, up at the door, down at the folder, and again at the door.   
  
He jogged to his door, threw the folder under the crack, and continued on to the recently shut room.   
  
In front of the room was an empty syringe. He stared at the door, listening carefully. People shuffled around inside.   
  
He bent down, grabbed the syringe, and took off at a fast pace down to the desk with the unnamed woman sitting behind it. He gave her a rushed smile.   
  
Through the tunnels, again and again, he wove and wound around walls. How much time had passed here, he had no idea, but somehow, he knew exactly how to find where he was going.   
  
Or perhaps, PJ was right. Perhaps he had been here before. And now those memories were returning to him.   
  
No matter the reason, he arrived in front of J’s office, out of breath. The syringe has been buried in his pocket now, and as he lifted a hand to knock on the door, his brain whirred.   
  
Rapidly, a hand clamped over his mouth. In the same moment, the other hand grabbed his wrist about to knock, twisted his arm behind his back, and twirled the syringe from his grip. In just two seconds, his hands were behind his back and his yelp was cut off abruptly. In the next second, he was shoved away from the door and out of sight.   
  
However, as he moved, his mind whirred.   
  
  
His chest hit the dirt wall, but he swiped his foot, hitting the ankle of his captor, He stumbled, and Mark yanked his hands free, spinning free from the hand around his mouth. The corner was dark, so he grabbed almost blindly to latch around the shoulders of the man. He kicked the back of his knees, and the man went into his arms. Mark took the syringe.   
  
“Who are you?” he asked. The man whipped his head out from under him.   
  
“ _Javla helveta fita_ -” he muttered, pushing his way out of Mark’s arms. Mark fingered his bracelet carefully.   
  
“Does no one around here know how to treat an ally? _Javla fita…_ ” as he spoke, the man backed up a bit. Mark took in his features.   
  
“Felix?”  
  
He threw up his hands. “Finally, thank you!” he brushed a hand through his hair. “What are you doing, you idiot!”  
  
Mark stood defensively against the wall. His fingers tapped the syringe. “Not really any of your business.”  
  
Felix sighed dramatically. “Uh yeah, definitely my business - come here.” he grabbed Mark’s elbow and hauled him out from the corner. “And - for the love of, put that away- here.” he snatched the syringe from him and shoved it into a fold in his outfit.   
  
They walked far away from J’s office, Felix constantly looking around him. When he decided they were far enough away, he pulled Mark behind a wall again.   
  
“You saw Krism, right? Brown hair? Red eye?” he asked. Mark nodded slowly.  
  
“She’s Minx’s wife. She been arrested and will be killed within the hour. We have to stop that from happening - ok, listen, I know about you. I know about the whole - “ Felix made a motion with his arms, pointing the the general direction of Mark’s head. “You gotta trust me, yeah?”  
  
Mark squinted his eyes, but it was like a little light in his head flashed green. He couldn’t quite place the memory yet, but he knew it was there and he knew it was good.   
  
“Ok…”  
  
  
“Ok. I need you to get to Krism and take out the guards. Get her out of here - let nobody see you. Take her to the armory if you can, stay out there. I’ll be there after I get Minx.”  
  
“Wait - woah, wait - what about Minx? What is going on?” Mark stammered. Felix put a finger to his lips.   
  
“Not important. I’ll take care of Minx, you find Krism and get her to safety.” Felix started to move away, but Mark clawed his arm.  
  
“Where even is this girl? How am I supposed to…” he made air quotes with his fingers. “Take out the guards? None of this makes sense!”  
  
Felix grinned at him, his smile almost menacing. “Has any of your life really made sense?”  
  
He disappeared, syringe poking out of the back of his pocket. Mark almost started beating his head against the wall.  
  
Instead, he sighed and tightened his bracelet, taking off through the tunnels.   
  
\---  
  
Felix walked slowly down the hallway, looking at the door to Minx and Krism’s room. He watched for movement of the handle, he listened for shuffling of feet. When he heard nothing, he put his hand on the knob and turned. Locked, of course. He almost smiled.   
  
A few seconds later, the knob to the door fell off in his hand.   
  
He stepped inside and made his business quick. If someone came down the hallway, they would be extremely suspicious.   
  
Minx was laid out on the bed, a mass of wires and tubes extending from the crook of her elbow. Her eyes were shut, and like this, she almost seemed peaceful. Felix knew better. He got to work.   
  
Needle after needle, hose after hose, Felix unplugged Minx from her wires, detaching her from the memory treatment she was receiving. He read the sheet attached to one of the hoses - just as he suspected.   
  
The memories she was being fed erased Krism from her mind. It made it so that when she woke up, she wouldn’t have a problem doing her job; killing Krism. Felix shook his head and tutted his tongue. That wouldn’t do.   
  
He pulled the syringe from his pocket and pulled off the back, shaking anything that was in it out. Then he took the small, black case from the inside of his jacket and unlatched it, finding the small vial of clear liquid inside. He poured it into the syringe and inserted it carefully into Minx’s opposite arm. He pushed down, then waited.   
  
The liquid disappeared into her bloodstream, and he watched the blue of her veins through her skin turn white for a moment, then blue again. She inhaled deeply, then settled.   
The tiny bots in the liquid did their work. They wired her brain. Reset her hard drive. Felix nodded.   
  
The memory was planted. Krism had woken up, gone to work, even seen Felix in the hallway. She killed a lowly prisoner that she didn’t recognize. She would wake up in real time thinking this had happened. J wouldn’t know any different if the rest of the plan went accordingly.   
  
Replace Krism, take the real one. Sneak her from under J’s nose and use Minx to clarify that the job was done.   
  
Felix emptied the liquids from the various tubes and replugged Minx in, left the door knob on the nightstand, and slipped out.   
  
\---  
  
Mark’s breathing was shallow. He didn’t know where he was going. He was turning blind corner after blind corner. People passed him quietly, not bothering to ask why he seemed so frazzled.   
  
Well, almost everyone passed him quietly.   
  
Mark spun around another corner and ran straight into a body. He stumbled backwards, already spouting apologies. He stopped suddenly.   
  
“Oh, Mark!” Jack said, brushing off his pants. “I haven’t seen you in a good bit. Where’ve you been?” he asked nonchalantly, but Mark felt undertones of real burning questions and unease.   
  
“Just around. I’m off right now actually, in quite a hurry. Maybe we should meet up again for dinner soon!” he said, already starting to walk forward. But Jack held out an arm.   
  
“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” he asked, the same tone to his voice. Mark swallowed.   
  
“It’s really not important. I’ll just be on my way-”  
  
Jack’s arm locked in place as Mark tried to step forward.   
  
Jack stared him down, glaring knives into his skull. “I don’t enjoy when people keep things from me.”  
  
Mark got a flashback of the day he first met Jack and his steeled glare, razor-sharp fighting style, and mysterious demeanor. But underneath that, something else. He saw a training ground, he heard laughter and he felt soft punches. Like a sparring session. But it was too hazy to see.   
  
Mark sighed. “Unfortunately, I enjoy keeping secrets.”  
  
He ducked and slid under Jack’s arm, spinning to face Jack, feet planted firmly. Jack was right there instantly to meet him. Mark saw the point of a knife under his sleeve, but the weapon wasn’t out yet, so he didn’t pull his. Instead, he blocked a hard jab and caught Jack’s flying wrist. He twisted, spinning him and locking the arm behind his back.   
  
Jack kicked, making Mark’s knees buckle. He knelt, and saw a hook coming for his head. He ducked, grabbing Jack’s ankle and throwing his weight down. Jack fell, dust pluming around him.   
  
Mark slid back distancing himself. If he knocked him down long enough, he would run.   
  
But Jack was up in a heartbeat, fighting faster and better than Mark ever could. However, mark dodged. He parried and blocked and caught throw after throw. Eventually, he took both of Jack’s wrists in his hands and slammed them against the wall. They stayed there, breathing heavily, staring at each other.   
  
“Help me.” Mark said. “Help me out.”  
  
Jack breathed out. “Can’t.” he smirked. “I don’t help liars.”  
  
The knife slipped from his sleeve, his fingers working at it under Mark’s grip. Mark sighed, let go of him, and sprinted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seriously like this is by far the shittiest update yet so i'm so sorry it will get better from here

Mark ducked and his strength momentarily weakened on Jack’s arm. He swung the blade out in his general direction, almost catching a lock of Mark’s hair. He took Jack around the waist in an effort to better hold him to the wall, but the sharp point of the knife slid down his back briefly. He hissed, taking out Jack’s ankles and bringing him to his knees. Mark swung his leg around and caught Jack in the head. 

 

He watched in horror as Jack flew back and cracked against the wall behind him. His body slumped limp against it. 

 

Mark shot out of his skin as an alarm started screaming in his ears and red lights lit up all around him. 

 

At that moment, Mark muttered every curse to every deity that he could think of.

 

Then he swore once, twice under his breath before picking Jack’s body up and slinging it over his shoulder. He did this after checking for a pulse, of course, and slowing his own heart rate at the thought of killing a man. 

 

Mark took off as fast as he could go. He assumed that the alarms meant the same as always - an attack. Probably a raid. He didn’t allow for questions, only for his new scrambled mess of a brain to think for him and think fast. 

 

Suddenly, he cried out. Jack started to slip from his hands as he fell to one knee, pain blooming in the center of his back before traveling up his spine and rattling inside his skull. It felt like an electric shock and he cursed again and again. <i>Damn</i> that knife and damn Jack and damn those alarms to hell and back, and back again - Jack must have caught a nerve. He had -

 

“ _Shit_ \- God, somebody -” Mark threw caution out the window. Surely they wouldn’t continue on with their master scheme to kill this girl during some weird raid of the town… right? He called again for someone. Where in the hell had everyone gone?

 

“Hey - Jesus, give me him, come on then…” a voice shouted over the sirens. Jack’s weight was lifted from Mark’s shoulder, and a moment later, an arm looped under his shoulder and lifted Mark onto his feet. He pressed his palms into his eyes, the noise making the pain worse. Suddenly, though, it dulled a bit, and with the loss of noise came the decrease in pain. 

 

Mark opened his eyes to meet the back of a large man walking briskly ahead of him, with Jack over one of his shoulders and his hand tugging Mark’s wrist. Mark became aware also of a hat covering his ears - it was warm and soft and didn’t work perfectly to muffle the alarms, but now he could think. Now he could walk - now he could run. 

 

As the man quickened his pace, Mark did as well. He watched the halls and to his utter horror, his brain did something incredible. Inside his head, almost like it was behind his eyes, he saw a map. It wasn’t that detailed, and not that crystal clear, but he saw the tunnels they were weaving through. He could see everything, know everything about getting anywhere. Madly, he scanned it, thinking about what Felix had told him, and there it was, the -

 

He blinked. And it was gone. 

 

Krism. He knew where to find her. And honestly… a raid wouldn’t be a bad time to catch the guards while they’re preoccupied. Now was as good a time as any to have yet another rapid change of opinion. 

 

But this man was leading him in the opposite direction towards the medbay. Which was logical… but he had to get away. 

 

Mark stopped in his tracks, his wrist yanked along with the man’s momentum. He stopped as well, surprised. 

 

“What are you doing?” he shouted. Mark wiggled his wrist away. 

 

“Thank you so much, but I have to go, I was instructed that I was needed elsewhere -”

 

“Bullshit!” he replied. Mark shrugged. 

 

“You’re not wrong. But I’m sorry, I have to go. Thank you for helping me.”

 

Mark took off in the other direction. He never turned around to look at the man again, but nobody caught up to him, so he assumed that he had just given up and continued on. 

 

Mark’s feet carried him to a single large door sort of set into the wall behind a large stone. Only one woman remained outside the door instead of what Mark assumed was usually two. He swiped his thumb across his bracelet, thrust the back of his sword, and gently put the woman down propped up on the wall. Again, check for a pulse. Seriously don’t want blood on the hands. 

 

He looked at the elaborate series of locks on the door, sighed, and clicked open another port on his bracelet. He jammed the piece into the keyhole, wiggled a bit, then smiled. 

A few solid kicks to the door, plus another few curses of pain, and the steel swung right open. 

 

The girl sat on the floor in the fairly dark cell, her wrists tied to a small post in the center. Her eyes were wide and apprehensive, staring at the door, but as soon as Mark entered, she shot up. 

 

“Oh, thank God, you-”

 

“Don’t even, I can hardly hear and we are not plentiful on time here.”

 

He hacked away at the cuffs and put his arm around her waist, shuttling her out of the cell. 

 

From here, it was extremely slow moving. They couldn’t be seen, and with the threat of an attacker coming at them at any second, they had to be on high alert. 

 

Mark’s sword was hot in his hand, the metal almost absorbing his body heat. His hands were sweating. Throughout this whole process, he hadn’t stopped to think how utterly insane this was, and now, as they wove silently under the red lights and alarms, he had the time to think that _dear God he was going to get himself killed and for what. Who is he even following orders from? Why should he believe anyone in this place?_

 

Still, he kept moving. Armory. 

 

Maybe Bob would help. Maybe Jack’s girlfriend would help. But he greatly doubted both of those options. However, why else would Felix send him here with the escapee? 

 

Mark sidled up to the large blast door, sighed deeply, looked at Krism once, then knocked on the door as loud as he could. 

 

It opened almost instantly and a hand pulled him inside. A metal hand. 

 

Signe smiled at him as she bolted the door shut again. The instant heat was stifling, but considering the hug exchanged between the two women, he assumed that yes, Signe was a friend to them. 

 

The thought that she was going behind Jack’s back and he was completely blind to it almost made Mark laugh. 

 

Then, someone did laugh. 

 

“What’s with the hat?”

 

Mark turned around to meet Bob, who had his arms crossed over his chest and was smirking stupidly. Mark scowled and yanked the hat off his head, forgetting the strange man had even given it to him. The alarm had been shut off inside of the armory, and since sound was no longer muffled, it felt like his hearing had increased ten fold. 

 

He looked down at the hat in his hands and, despite it, he chuckled. The hat was furry and soft and was stitched to look like a bear. It even had the two strings on either side with the balls on the ends. He twirled it, tossing it at Bob. 

 

“I work my ass off to find this mystery jail and save a girl I don’t know - Hi, by the way - get cut up on the back so that my hardware is busted and all I get is sass? Jeez. Harsh.”

 

Signe motioned for Mark to sit. He did, thanking her, and stretching his back. The cut throbbed, but it wasn’t that bad of a cut. Just a well placed one. 

 

He put his head in his hands and tried to rub the questions from his head, and as he sat in this temporary safe house, some of the confusion did die away. His grip tightened in his hair as he relived things that he could perceive clearly now. 

 

There was a large room covered in mats with an instructor walking around leisurely. Many people were spread out around him - he saw the bartender, Hannah, the first man he met, Connor, and he saw himself standing across from Jack. They all were in a fighting stance. 

 

Jack and Mark sparred, laughing, critiquing. The room faded to be replaced with running. He was running, and he was shorter…. Younger. A woman ran on his left and a boy a little taller than him ran on his right. Someone shouted garbled nonsense behind him. Something exploded. 

 

“Mark, what did you do with Jack?” Signe asked, breaking him from the memory trip. He looked up at her. 

 

“What do you mean?” he asked stupidly. 

 

“I mean, I saw him going down the tunnels and after what Felix told us, so I assumed you would run into him. And he’s not with you currently, so what did you do with him?” she asked it as a calm inquiry, but Mark could sense that she was also concerned. 

 

“I knocked him out and starting to carry him, when the slice he gave me on the back made my wires trip out. Some guy came along and took Jack himself and started to lead me towards the medbay - after giving me the hat, of course,” he motioned to the hat Bob was holding. “But I thought that during an alarm, the guards would be… well, off guard. I was right - so here I am.” Mark replied, shrugging. Signe nodded. 

 

“The alarm isn’t real - it’s a distraction. There are a few other things happening at the same time that Felix and PJ thought would benefit with the noise.” Bob spoke up. Mark looked at him.

 

“Why wouldn’t Felix tell me to expect that?” he asked, slightly miffed. Bob raised an eyebrow. 

 

“He expected you to realize what you had to do. And apparently, you did.” he looked at Krism. 

 

Mark took the moment to stand again, and he held out a hand to the girl. “Sorry, it was all kind of rushed, I’m Mark.” he said, smiling. “Everybody around here thinks you’re pretty important, huh?”

 

Krism took his hand and smirked. “Not really me. The attention is more focussed on you. But thank you - for the compliment and the saving my life thing. I’m gay, by the way.”

 

Mark laughed. “Yes, I know.”

 

Suddenly, Krism’s eyes widened. “Did Felix do it? Did he fix her memories?”

 

Signe only shrugged. “We don’t know yet. He was supposed to get word to me when that and the rest of the agenda was completed.”

 

“What agenda are we talking about here? And how is this whole ‘fake alarm’ thing going without a hitch? Sorry, but I’m incredibly confused.”

 

Signe winked. “All in due time, Mark.”

  
Someone pounded at the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep. pretty shitty, i know. eh.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE RETURNED 
> 
> i am so sorry i died a little for a few weeks it's ok it's ok

 

Bob rolled out a knot from his neck before motioning for Mark to follow him. 

 

“Alright, go time. Come on - shut up, hurry.” he signalled for Krism as well. They exchanged a look, before shrugging and following Bob deeper into the armory. It was hot in general, the machinery in the large alcove heating everything up. But now, Mark watched as Signe typed codes in and flipped switches and things around him hummed to life. The heated air that blasted from the tech caused him to sweat even more. 

 

Bob showed them a narrow door - or, what Mark assumed to be a door. It looked more like the steels walls that were bolted into the earth around him, but he watched Bob press into the correct spot and a handle popped from the material. He inserted a key into the lock and pulled it open. 

 

Before them, a dark hole in the wall. Krism looked at Bob, unsure, but he just gestured for them to go forward. Suddenly, the alarm stopped - they heard the door open in the front of the armory. 

 

Bob raised his eyebrows expectantly. 

 

Mark went through first, feeling for a light switch - his hand just went over rough dirt on either side. However, the deeper back he went, the wider the walls got and the more he could see. His foot hit a wall in front of him, and he turned to the open space illuminated on his left. 

 

Curving around the side of the armory was a long sort of room - some lanterns hung on the ceiling, giving some weak light to them. Fans were blowing in every corner, attempting to keep the heatbox cool. He stepped into the center of the room, followed closely by Krism. 

 

“What the hell?” she asked. Mark only looked around him. 

 

Some beds were set up - and not just simple cots, either. Very nice beds with pretty plush bedding were lined along the right wall - there were three of them altogether. Along the curved back end of the room, about twenty feet away from Mark, there were some tables and provisionary things, such as what Mark assumed to be a box full of food. He hoped that the food wasn’t meant to be refrigerated, but he didn’t dwell on the strange safe-room culinary array. He turned to the left wall, which was completely covered in maps. All kinds of maps of areas that Mark did and didn’t recognize were plastered from floor to ceiling across the middle of the left wall. He took it all in, blinking. 

 

“You like my handiwork?” a voice said, making both Mark and Krism jump. Mark spun around to face Felix. He frowned. 

 

“Thanks for the warning.” he said bitterly. Felix grinned, ignoring him. 

 

“Hey Krism.” he said instead, waving. She waved back, albeit a little confused. 

 

Mark watched him cross the room and point to one of the maps. “This one took me forever to hang - see, this is-”

 

“Wait, shut up for a second, explain to me what the hell just happened?” Mark shut him down, watching as Felix swivelled slowly back to face him. He seemed to think for a moment, face blank, before sighing. 

 

“Yeah, sure, alright. Demanding. Whatever. So - ok, so fake alarm. Fake alarm to get Krism, de-brainwash the brainwashed Minx, and… do a few other things.” he passed the duo, walking to grab a chair from the tables. He turned it around and plopped down. 

 

“What kind of things?” Mark pressed, annoyed. 

 

“I’m not exactly at liberty to say.” Felix answered. Mark frowned. 

 

“Listen, I don’t really care that much about this whole top secret business. I don’t really care about all these insane precautions you’re taking - safe rooms hidden in armories and fake alarms to breaks people out of jail and - listen, I don’t care. What I do care about now is that I remember insane things that have happened to me. I remember my family. And my childhood. I remember things that up until a few days ago, I didn’t think existed.”

 

He had started taking steps forward as he spoke. Felix watched in silence. 

 

“I care that at the moment, my calm, peaceful, under-the-radar life that I had come to want after accepting the nonsense that this town is based on is hanging so close to the edge. Right now, if I choose to ask my questions and find out what is happening here, I could lose my chance at being nobody. And what’s scary is that when I was saving this girl or whatever from getting killed and alarms were blaring and I knocked two people unconscious, I wanted this. I wanted to be a part of the truth and a part of the right team. And if what people keep telling me is true, then apparently I’m pretty important to some people up top. Whatever that means. So, I feel like yeah, you kinda are at liberty to say.”

 

He stared at Felix. 

 

He heard a twist, and then a thud, and then the sound of a metal door against dirt. 

 

“Alright, here we are…” a familiar voice said. Mark turned around to be met with the face of PJ. Upon making eye contact, PJ grinned. “Bein’ brought together at least. Well, not completely together, but - similar.”

 

Three people walked in behind PJ - two of them looked familiar. The first was the blonde from the bar - Hannah, if he was remembering correctly. She had the nice undercut and good drink making skills. His stomach twisted at the thought of having a drink. His brain politely told him that at a certain amount of alcohol, his systems would fail and he would die. He ignored both of these things. 

 

The second person was none other than the man he had seen in the hallways - the one with the bear hat. The one who had helped him and who had carried Jack off to the medbay. He had an incredibly impressive beard, and to Mark’s surprise, he had a huge smile pasted on his face. Mark sheepishly smiled back. 

 

The third person he hadn’t yet met - she had very long, dark hair that hung about to her hips that was under a colorful cap turned backwards on her head. She had striking makeup and red lips that arched into a smile. Her clothes were eye-catching as well - a long-sleeved shirt with gold cuffs that was knitted in some kind of shiny wool because the impressive display of art on it was reflective under the lights. It hung down past her hips and ended in the same golden cuff material. Black and white patterned leggings almost hypnotized Mark, as the pattern seemed to move when she moved. 

 

PJ stepped in front of the trio and pointed to each of them respectively. “Mark, this is Hannah, Ken, and Lilly. And of course, this is Mark. And I think everyone knows Krism.”

 

Krism nodded and grinned at the three, while Mark’s hand travelled to his back pocket. He pulled out the bear hat, which he had stuffed into the small pocket as they had walked back to the safe room. He held it up. 

 

“I think this is yours.” he said, and tossed it across to Ken. He nodded. 

 

“Next time, try not to knock somebody out.” he laughed, the sound deep and hearty. Mark shrugged. 

 

“He’s ok?”

 

“He’s fine - the real question is, are you ok?” Ken had something almost like worry in his eyes. Mark arched an eyebrow.

 

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

 

“You weren’t fine outside. My job was to make sure you ended up in the correct place - well, technically my job was to just see if you were with us or not. If you didn’t go get Krism, I would. But if you did want to help us, and you didn’t remember the map correctly, then I had to show you to Krism -”

 

Mark stopped him. “What map?”

 

Ken gestured to the wall to Mark’s left. Mark scanned it quickly and - there it was. The map he had seen in his vision, if only just for a second. He looked back at Ken, bewildered. 

 

“That wiring you have was implemented by Danny and Arin, correct?” he said. Mark nodded slowly. 

 

“So they…?”

 

“Helped us out in advance, yes. We aren’t exactly new to this whole ordeal, Mark. Anyway, when I did come across you, you had Jack slung over your shoulder and looked like you were in pain. You could hardly even focus enough to walk.”

 

Mark thought back to the tunnels and the alarms and - ah, yes. Jack’s knife had caught his back and it felt like it had caught a nerve. Maybe it had caught part of his wiring, he didn’t know, but it had thrown him off. 

 

Mark twisted his arm back to feel for the cut, but Felix was still behind them. He spoke up. 

 

“It doesn’t look that bad, but it’s kind of deep. You should probably just have it bandaged.” he said. Mark turned enough to look at him. 

 

“Turn around -” the new voice said. Mark looked over at Lilly, who was walking towards him and motioning for him to spin. Mark arched an eyebrow, but complied. She put a hand on the hem of his shirt. 

 

“Do you mind?”

 

Mark swallowed. “I guess not. What’s your name again?”

 

Lilly laughed before lifting the shirt away from the cut. It stuck to his skin where blood had dried. She observed it for a few seconds before patting down his shirt again. Mark looked at her as she spoke. 

 

“It’s right across his spine, and it’s deep enough to have caused damage to the wiring there. The way you reacted must have been because of a spark in the wire. You should have the Grumps look at it.”

 

“Grumps?”

 

“Danny, Arin, Suzy, the medical staff.” Lilly clarified. Mark didn’t question it - rather, he looked over to Hannah, who was now speaking. 

 

“But don’t get… too comfortable with the team, ok? Danny, Arin, and Suzy worked on you initially, but Ross, Holly, Barry, and a few of the other members of that staff aren’t with us in this whole endeavor. The medbay isn’t a safe enough place to talk about any of this.” she said. 

 

“Well, no where is a safe enough place, really.” PJ piped in. He transferred his gaze from Hannah to Mark. “Did you happen to read the files I gave you? Are you with us?”

 

Mark blinked. “No, I didn’t read them yet… I got a little preoccupied what with the false alarms. Which still hasn’t been explained fully to me.”

 

“Everything will be explained in due time, but we all need to hear that you are 100% with this cause that we have.” PJ clarified. “It isn’t anything to take lightly. If anyone finds out about the things that we are thinking and the things that we now know, every single one of us will be killed. Don’t put J to that test, because they will not hesitate.”

 

Krism crossed her arms. “Well, you know that I’m with you as long as you saved Minx.” She watched for a reaction. Felix stepped in closer to the group. 

 

“She’s saved… kind of. We can’t get her to join us, Krism, it’s impossible to force it on her. The best we could do was - well…” he stopped short. Krism stared at him. The rest of the room gave off an air of apprehension. 

 

“What? What did you do? I thought we were supposed to… to give her the right memories, make her think that what we’re doing is good?” she said. Her voice started to rise in pitch. 

 

Felix scratched the back of his neck. “We couldn’t - couldn’t exactly do that. Minx has - well, she has some internal hardware that if tampered with incorrectly could kill her. And the risk factor of the serum we would have had to use to implement that kind of a memory change -”

 

“Well, what was easier to change? What’s easier to erase than her loyalty to J?” Krism sounded exasperated and, if Mark was correct, a little scared.

 

Felix opened his mouth, but nothing came out. PJ watched the floor. 

 

“We had to - we erased… you. Minx doesn’t remember knowing you. But - listen to me, it was to combat what J was giving her. She was allowing her to hate you and kill you on site if she saw you. Because she doesn’t know you, you can be safe if we ever try to recruit her for real. I’m sorry, Krism, really I-”

 

Krism had taken slow steps back away from Felix as she listened. Her face was blank, devoid of emotion. Mark looked across the room to the trio still standing near the doorway with Lilly standing solo in between them. She met Mark’s gaze and gave a sad smile. 

 

Suddenly, Krism started walking - walking towards the exit. She started to leave. 

 

“No, Krism, you can’t - you’re a missing fugitive that’s supposed to be dead, if anyone seed you -” Ken called, rushing behind her and taking her arms. Krism tried to wrench free, but couldn’t get out of Ken’s grasp. Accepting that she couldn’t get away, she turned towards the group. Her one eye was brimming with tears - the other was glowing red, accusatory almost. 

 

“If you had told me that by the end of this, Minx wouldn’t even know who I was, then I would have told you to leave me in that room and just let me die.” Her voice was unsteady, shaken by tears, but almost calm. It was quiet. 

 

Ken let go of her arm and watched her leave .The opening and closing of the door was silent - after a moment, Hannah hurried after her and they again barely heard the door open - she came back around the corner and informed them that Krism didn’t leave the armory. She was still hidden, but she needed space. 

 

The cloud that now hung over everyone in the room was smothering. It lasted a few minutes before a seventh body returned to the room - however, it was not Krism. 

 

“Alright, let’s find out where Dan and Phil are, shall we?” Signe said, the beam of light shooting up from her hand once more and showcasing a blinking dot. A tracker. Everyone was snapped from their reverie, gathering closer to the maps. He heard Felix sigh - “Thank god, at least they’re alive.”

 

Mark watched a map on the wall light up. And he saw one, two, three dots flicker into existence -”

 

“Where’s the fourth?” Ken asked, stepping closer. Signe tapped the board, thudded her hand against the wall, checking for connection errors. She tapped each dot. 

 

Three green dots, and one red. The small, blinking thing popped into existence. Signe closed her eyes and put her head in one hand, pressing at what Mark could only assume to be a headache. 

  
“One of them is hurt.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together* it should start to get juicy


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhhhh eh hhh ehh here *shove* have it

“Come on, come on…” Dan’s voice was dry and harsh. When resisting water earlier was a choice, keeping parched lips now was unarguable. They barely had enough for a few sips for each of them after they had to use such a good amount to clean up Matt.

 

Speaking of, he was hardly even moving on his own anymore. Initially, he could at least pull a quarter of his weight - now, he was dead weight on Dan’s shoulder. The pain was starting to be overtaken by numbness as they walked.

 

Ahead of him, Phil walked a little faster next to Louise, who had her arm around his shoulders. His bare shoulders. Dan almost had to keep his eyes to the ground as to not think too much about the sun scorching his skin. His shirt was knotted tightly around Matt’s side.

 

_They had been walking for what seemed like years, but with water fresh on his tongue, Dan could at least concentrate on something other than the heat. He could think about getting to a town, winning their battle in Heartland, even winning the war. His hand was making a mark of sweat in the shape of five fingers against Phil’s back as he led him carefully, applying enough pressure to keep him moving at their collective pace._

 

_Matt, who was in the front of the pack, stopped suddenly. Everyone else fell into place beside him, looking on the horizon._

 

_“There’s something out there,” he said slowly, eyes squinting to see. The longer Dan looked, the larger the tiny thing in the distance became._

 

_“What is it?” he asked. Matt scratched the back of his neck._

 

_“Not sure. Probably not friendly.” his eyes trailed the speck._

 

_Dan looked around him at the expanse of nothing on each side. Even if they wanted to go back, they couldn’t at this point. They were farther from Heartland now than they were from any sort of civilization - they were sure of this because of the research they had done ages ago. Dan could remember the four of them - himself, Phil, Chris and PJ - all sitting around a monitor in their tech hub. They found very small, very faint traces of radio waves coming from the east. But then everything went wrong. Then he didn’t remember that moment for a long time._

 

_“Do you remember that iridescent beast that showed up a few days ago in town?” Louise asked. Phil nodded._

 

_“They’re actually pretty common in the Open Space. One of them have showed up before in Heartland, but it was before we all got wiped. There’s only about ten, maybe eleven of them in existence making it easy for some group - most likely the bandits and thieves running around - to take them all for themselves. They plate their hide with a material that allows their hair to grow through and cover it, but it’s virtually impenetrable. They track them, too, fitting them with all kinds of weird tech. They’re crazy killing machines, basically.”  Phil clarified._

 

_“Are you suggesting that is what that is?” Dan asked, something churning in his stomach. He looked at his friends. They looked back at him, grim._

 

_“Well, what are we supposed to do? It’s not likely it’ll just leave us alone, and apparently, we can’t kill it -” he was cut short by Phil._

 

_“Actually, you can kill it. Mark did. You just have to get a hold of it long enough to pry some of its paneling off - then it’s just an animal. As killable as anything else around here.” the casual tone of Phil’s voice was strange as he talked about killing things, but Dan nodded._

 

_“Ok. And how are we meant to do that?” he continued._

 

_“Well, who’s the strongest among us?” Phil asked. Dan looked at Matt._

 

_“Yeah, I suppose it would be me.” he said, resigned._

 

_“We can distract it, but if you can get around and grab some of its fur, you’ll be able to hang on long enough to pry a panel off. Hopefully. That would just be replicating what Mark did to kill it.” Phil explained. “Well, I suppose Jack was technically the one who killed it, but… details.”_

 

_When they next looked for the thing, it was easily distinguishable as their beast. It’s fur practically glowed in the afternoon sun. Dan took his necklace off from around his neck and activated it, handing it to Matt._

 

_“Use this knife to unscrew the paneling.” he said. Matt only nodded._

 

_Then, they started walking. No point in simply standing in the sun waiting for the imminent danger._

 

_From then on, all of it was a blur._

 

_When the beast caught sight of them, it started running - but it wasn’t just a normal run. It was a breakneck sprint, causing it to show up at their feet in seconds. Dan pulled a separate knife from his sock, unsheathing it incase he needed reason to use it. However, the three of them mostly had to just avoid being tackled and give Matt enough time to do his job._

 

_Dan watched the beast come after Louise first, but she easily got out of its way. Matt attempted to grab on here, but missed. So it turned, locking eyes with Dan and running for him now. As it neared, it reared up with its paws in the air. Dan ducked and flattened himself under it as it jumped over him. He rose quickly, but only to watch it then change its trajectory to Matt._

 

_The cycle continued, all of them tiring as they waiting for Matt to get it done. However, after a few minutes of the game, the thing came to a slow stop in the center of the small circle they had formed. It heaved large, long breaths, its eyes hooded and black. In the sun, its fur practically radiated light, purples and greens getting thrown off in every direction._

 

_Dan looked carefully at Matt, who was directly across from him, only obstructed to him by the beast. He raised his eyebrow._

 

_Matt made a huge leap, his hands reaching out to grab the fur. His fingers knotted into the material just as the animal lunged for Louise once again. She squealed and dodged._

 

_Matt immediately began prying a panel off, throwing a screw off to the side as the beast roared impossibly loud._

 

_He finally lifted a panel up and quickly went for the next one, simply yanking it off with the flat of the blade. Dan could see his chain catching sunlight as Matt worked._

 

_Matt buried the knife into the side of the thing and pulled. The wail that pierced the air made Louise cover her ears. It stumbled, legs turning to jelly. Dan watched as Matt began to slip -_

 

_Matt fell around, his arms encircling the neck of the animal, his head underneath the huge neck of the thing. His legs tried to wrap around its back, but they couldn’t get between the two front paws. Dan moved forward, his legs carrying him._

 

_It was like his eyes saw what would happen before it did._

 

_Matt’s bottom half hit the ground and got dragged underneath the stumbling, crying beast as it lost speed. His abdomen was directly under a paw, his eyes locked onto the claws that came pounding down into him._

 

_Matt cried out, his shirt tearing. The animal fell, its weight on top of him._

 

_Dan couldn’t tell animal blood from human._

 

\---

 

Matt jolted in Dan’s arm, his head rolling back. Dan stopped suddenly, readjusting Matt’s weight and picking his head back up.

 

“Matt? Hey, buddy, come on -” he started, but Matt remained motionless, eyes closed.

 

Dan’s heart rate picked up instantly. He put Matt down onto the ground, taking his shoulders in his hands to hold him up. Matt’s own hand slipped softly from where it had been holding his injury.

 

Dan’s fingers fumbled trying to get to Matt’s neck, searching for the pulse point.

 

Phil put his hand on Dan’s shoulder as he frantically laid Matt down and picked up his wrist, instead. Feeling for something. Anything.

 

“Dan,” Phil said, slowly. Evenly.

 

He heard Louise crying.

 

Then he heard a gunshot. Or, rather, two gunshots.

 

They all three jumped, ducking as they turned towards the sound. Dan had to shake his head and blink to regain his focus. Matt was dead. Matt was dead. Phil helped him stand. His hand lost its grip on Matt’s wrist, the appendage falling cold to the ground.

 

Three people on camelback had approached them, two women and one man. The man was holding his shoulder in obvious pain, blood soaking through his shirtsleeve. There was a pistol a few yards back from the trio. The women were both holding guns, but neither of them had them raised.

 

“What is going on here?” the woman in the middle asked. “What has happened to the man behind you?”

 

“We were attacked by a… well, I’m not sure what it’s called exactly, but it’s a sort of iridescent beast?” Phil spoke up in lieu of the silence of Dan and Louise. Louise had a hand over mouth, tears still streaming from her eyes silently.

 

“Is he dead?” the other woman asked. Phil nodded.

 

The woman who had just spoken got off of her camel’s back. She had on a long cloak-like dress that covered all her limbs as well as her head. Her hair, blonde, spilled from under the headpiece.

 

“Do not cry,” she said, approaching Louise with a canister of water. She was taller than Louise was, so she bent her knees to her level and gave a small smile. Dan’s heart slowed its erratic beating a small bit.

 

He now noticed the other woman had climbed down as well and was sharing water with Phil. She came to Dan next, offering the can with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Do you not have extra clothing?” she asked, eyes glancing to Phil. Dan shook his head.

 

“Where are you from?” he asked. She smiled.

 

“Somewhere you can seek refuge in. You are from Heartland, no? It must be worse than what we had anticipated if you four had tried to escape it.” she said, returned to her camel to dig around in s side pack. From it, she produced a long cloak, not unlike her own. She handed it to Phil.

 

“You aren’t truly planning to take them back with us?” the man finally spoke, his breath harsh. He was still bent over uncomfortably. The woman turned sharply, her eyes cold.

 

“It is your own fault for shooting at harmless refugees. You would do well to keep your mouth shut,” she said.

 

“Why are you being so kind to us?” Louise asked, wringing her hands. The woman who had been comforting her smiled again.

 

“Your Heartland is very different from our home. We saw your signals on our radar and came to see if you were friend or foe. It’s our job to protect our town, but it is equally our job to welcome weary travelers.” she said.

 

“Who are you?” Phil asked then. The woman closest to them spoke first.

 

“My name is Amelia. That is Renee, and that,” she paused, face darkening as she scowled at the man. “Is Sebastian.”

 

Phil nodded. “I’m Phil, that’s Dan, and that is Louise,” he smiled, the cloak fitting well around his shoulders.

 

Apprehension to the kindness bubbled in Dan’s stomach as he watched Renne bandage Sebastian before tugging him from the camel. Sebastian protested, but Renne smacked the side of his head. She then offered for the three of them to climb onto the camels.

 

“However, I’ll need all of your weapons first.” she looked each of them in the eye. Dan hesitated, looking at Phil first. Phil shrugged.

 

Dan took his necklace off from around his neck, knowing that at least none of them could trigger his weapon to open. Amelia kept her hand out in front of him, waiting.

 

Dan sighed, reaching down and removing the small knife.

 

“And what about Matt?” Louise asked, her voice breaking slightly. Renee smiled sadly. She took lengths of cloth out from her bag and walked back to Matt, who was lying flat on the ground. Amelia herded them forward to climb onto the camels.

 

All three of them were situated on their respective camels when Amelia came up behind Dan and secured a small sort of table on the second hump of the camel. Here, she laid Matt, who was wrapped in the many multicolored cloths.

 

He saw Renee walk ahead and grab Sebastian’s dropped gun, pocketing it. Sebastian walked in front of all of them, simultaneously leading them and allowing himself to be watched carefully. Renee and Amelia both took the right and left.

 

The six of them set off.

 


End file.
